diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15183-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 112646 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15183-h/15183-h.htm | 3102 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15183-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 0 -> 56858 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15183.txt | 3003 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15183.zip | bin | 0 -> 53492 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
8 files changed, 6121 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/15183-h.zip b/15183-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..739f577 --- /dev/null +++ b/15183-h.zip diff --git a/15183-h/15183-h.htm b/15183-h/15183-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..144ddcf --- /dev/null +++ b/15183-h/15183-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3102 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Tragedy Of The Chain Pier, by Charlotte M. Braeme. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + } + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; left: 12%; text-align: left;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Tragedy of the Chain Pier, by Charlotte M. Braeme + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Tragedy of the Chain Pier + Everyday Life Library No. 3 + +Author: Charlotte M. Braeme + +Release Date: February 26, 2005 [EBook #15183] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRAGEDY OF THE CHAIN PIER *** + + + + +Produced by Steven desJardins and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h3>EVERYDAY LIFE LIBRARY No. 3</h3> +<h4>Published by EVERYDAY LIFE, Chicago</h4> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 431px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="431" height="500" alt="cover image" title="cover image" /> +</div> + +<h1><a name="THE_TRAGEDY_OF_THE_CHAIN_PIER" id="THE_TRAGEDY_OF_THE_CHAIN_PIER" />THE TRAGEDY OF THE CHAIN PIER</h1> + +<h2>By CHARLOTTE M. BRAEME</h2> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + + +<p>Most visitors to Brighton prefer the new pier; it is altogether a more +magnificent affair. It is in the fashionable town, for fashion will go +westward; it is larger, more commodious, more frequented. Go to the West +Pier when you will, there is always something to see; beautiful women, +pretty girls, fashionable belles promenade incessantly. There are times +when it is crowded, and there is even a difficulty in making room for +all who come. No wonder the elite of Brighton like the West Pier; it is +one of the most enjoyable spots in England; every luxury and comfort is +there; a good library, plenty of newspapers, elegant little shops, +excellent refreshment rooms, fine music; and then the lovely blue, +dimpling sea, the little boats with their white sails, like white-winged +birds on the water, the grand stretch of the waves, the blue sky +overhead, and the town, with its fine, tall houses shining in the +sunlight, the line of white cliff and the beach where the children are +at play. You go down to the wonderful jetty, which, to me, was one of +the most mysterious and romantic of places. There the water is of the +deepest, choicest emerald green, and it washes the wonderful net-work of +poles with a soft, lapping sound beautiful to hear. You can stand there +with only a rail between you and the green, deep water, watching the +fisher-boats out on the deep; watching, perhaps, the steamer with its +load of passengers, or looking over the wide sunlit waves, +dreaming—dreams born of the sea—out of the world; alone in the kingdom +of fancy; there is always something weird in the presence of deep, +silent, moving waters.</p> + +<p>There is always plenty of life, gayety and fashion on the West Pier. It +is a famous place, not for love-making but for flirtation; a famous +place for studying human nature; a famous place for passing a pleasant +hour. You may often meet great celebrities on the West Pier; faces +familiar at the House of Lords, familiar at Court, familiar at the +opera, are to be seen there during the season; beautiful faces that have +grown pale and worn with the excitement of a London campaign, and here, +as they are bent thoughtfully over the green waters, the bracing air +brings sweet roses, the lines fade, the eyes brighten; there is no such +beautifier as a sea breeze, no bloom so radiant and charming as that +brought by the wind from the sea.</p> + +<p>On the West Pier you will find all the beauty, rank and fashion of +Brighton; you will see costumes a ravir, dresses that are artistic and +elegant; you will see faces beautiful and well-known; you will hear a +charming ripple of conversation; you will witness many pleasant and +piquant adventures; but if you want to dream; if you want to give up +your whole heart and soul to the poetry of the sea; if you want to +listen to its voice and hear no other; if you want to shut yourself away +from the world; if you want to hear the music of the winds, their +whispers, their lullabies, their mad dashes, their frantic rages, you +must go to the Old Chain Pier. As a rule you will find few there, but +you may know they are a special few; you will see the grave, quiet face +of the thinker, who has chosen that spot because he does not want to be +disturbed by the frou-frou of ladies' dresses, or the music of their +happy voices; he wants to be alone with the sea and the wind.</p> + +<p>It often happens that you find a pair of very happy lovers there—they +go to the side and lean over the railing as though their sole object in +life was to watch the rippling sea. Do not believe them, for you will +hear the murmur of two voices, and the theme is always "love." If you go +near them they look shyly at you, and in a few minutes move gently away. +Ah, happy lovers, make hay while the sun shines; it does not shine +always, even over the Chain Pier.</p> + +<p>If you want to watch the waves, to hear their rolling music, if you want +to see the seagulls whirl in the blue ether, if you want to think, to +read, to be alone, to fill your mind with beautiful thoughts, go to the +Chain Pier at Brighton.</p> + +<p>There is a jetty—an old-fashioned, weird place, where the green water +rushes swiftly and washes round the green wood, where there is always a +beautiful sound of the rising and falling of the sea; where you may sit +on one of the old-fashioned seats, seeing nothing but water and sky +around you, until you can fancy yourself out in the wide ocean; until +you can wrap your thoughts and your senses in the very mists of romance. +Time was when the Chain Pier at Brighton was one of the wonders of +England, and even now, with its picturesque chains and arches, I like it +better than any other.</p> + +<p>I may as well tell the truth while I write of it. I know that if the +dead can rise from their graves I shall re-visit the Chain Pier at +Brighton. I spent one hour there—that was the hour of my life—one +madly happy, bewildering hour! I remember the plank of wood on which my +feet rested; I remember the railing, over which I heard the green, deep +water, with the white-sailed boat in the distance—sails like the white +wings of angels beckoning me away; the blue sky with the few fleecy +white clouds—the wash of the waters against the woodwork of the pier; +and I remember the face that looked down into mine—all Heaven lay in it +for me; the deep water, the blue sky, the handsome face, the measured +rhythms of the sea, the calm tones of the clear waves—are all mixed in +one dream. I cry out in anguish at times that Heaven may send me such +another, but it can never be! If the dead can return, I shall stand +once more where I stood then. I will not tell my story now, but rather +tell of the tragedy with which the Chain Pier at Brighton is associated +for evermore in my mind.</p> + +<p>I had gone down to Brighton for my health, and I was staying at the most +comfortable and luxurious of hotels, "The Norfolk." It was the end of +September, and the only peculiarity of the month that I remember was +this: the nights grew dark very soon—they were not cold; the darkness +was rather that of soft thick gloom that spread over land and sea. No +one need ever feel dull in Brighton. If I could have liked billiards, or +cared for the theater, or enjoyed the brilliant shops on the crowded +pier, with its fine music, I might have been happy enough; but I was +miserable with this aching pain of regret and the chill desolation of a +terrible loss. I tried the Aquarium. If fishes could soothe the heart of +man, solace might be found there; but to my morbid fancy they looked at +me with wide open eyes of wonder—they knew the secrets of the sea—the +faint stir of life in the beautiful anemones had lost its interest. I +could not smile at the King Crabs; the reading tables and the music had +no interest for me; outwardly I was walking through the magnificent +halls of the Aquarium—inwardly my heart was beating to the mournful +rhythms of the sea. The clock had not struck seven when I came out, and +there lying before me was the Chain Pier.</p> + +<p>I went there as naturally as the needle goes to the magnet. The moon +shone with a fitful light—at times it was bright as day—flooded the +sea with silver and showed the chain and the arches of the pier as +plainly as the sun could have done—showed the running of the +waves—they were busy that evening and came in fast—spreading out in +great sheets of white foam, and when the moonlight did touch the foam it +was beautiful to see.</p> + +<p>But my lady moon was coquettish—every now and then she hid her face +behind a drifting cloud, then the soft, thick gloom fell again, and the +pier lay like a huge shadow—the very place, I thought, in which a +tortured heart could grow calm; there was only the wind and the sea, +nothing more. I would go to the spot where we two should stand together +never more. I fancied, as I paid for admission at the gate, that the +face of the person who received it expressed some surprise. It must have +seemed a strange taste; but—ah, me!—there had bloomed for me for one +short hour the flowers of paradise.</p> + +<p>The thick, soft gloom was deeper on the pier. I remember that, as I +walked down, I heard from the church clocks the hour of eight. All along +the coast there was a line of light; the town was brilliantly lighted, +and when I looked across the waters the West Pier was in all its +radiance; the sound of the music floated over the waves to me, the light +of the colored lamps shone far and wide. I could see the moving mass of +people; here I was almost alone. I saw a gentleman smoking a cigar, I +saw the inevitable lovers, I saw an old man with an iron face, I saw two +young men, almost boys—what had brought them there I could not think.</p> + +<p>I reached the pier-head, where the huge lamp had been lighted and shone +like a great brilliant jewel. I sat down; there was no greater pleasure +for me than an evening spent there. At first all was quite still; the +gentleman smoking his cigar walked up and down; the two youths, who had +evidently mistaken the nature of the pier, and considered themselves +greatly injured by the absence of music and company, went away; the old +man sat still for some time, then he left.</p> + +<p>I was alone then with the smoker, who troubled himself very little about +me. The coquettish moon threw a wide, laughing gleam around, then +vanished. A whole pile of thick, dark clouds came up from the west and +hid her fair face—by them the thick, soft gloom had deepened into +darkness. I was far from expecting anything tragical as I sat there, +cold and desolate, lonely. As it was, the Chain Pier was more like home +to me than any other spot on earth, because of the one hour I had spent +there.</p> + +<p>The wind began to freshen and blow coldly where I sat. I had no motive +in changing my seat, except to escape the sharpness of the breeze. I +crossed to the other side, where the white line of cliffs lay—away from +the brilliant lights of the west pier, hidden behind the wooden +structure erected to shelter those on the pier. I gave myself up to my +dreams.</p> + +<p>I cannot tell how it was, but to-night many ghostly stories that I had +read about piers came to my mind. For instance, now, how easy it would +be for any man to steal up to me through the thick, soft, shadowy mist, +and murder me before I had time even to utter a cry, I might be thrown +over into the sea.</p> + +<p>Then I said to myself, what a foolish thought! I was close to many +people, such a murder was quite impossible. Yet I was foolish enough to +turn my head and try to peer through the darkness to see if any one was +near.</p> + +<p>The tall, slender figure of a woman dressed in a dark cloak was slowly +walking up the middle of the pier. She could not see me, but I saw +her—plainly, distinctly. I noticed the grace of her movements, her +grand carriage. She was closely veiled, so that I could not see her +face. But, unless I was much mistaken, she carried a bundle of something +held tightly under her arm.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II" />CHAPTER II.</h3> + + +<p>If this had been an ordinary woman, I should not have noticed her, +beyond the passing regard of the moment; it was the grace of her walk +that attracted my attention, and I felt sure that as she passed my by I +heard the sound of bitter passionate sobbing.</p> + +<p>The old story over again, I thought—sorrow and pain, longing and love! +But for the sound of that sob as she passed me I should not have watched +her—I should not have known what afterward I would have given my life +not to know.</p> + +<p>She walked right on to the very head of the pier, and stood there for a +few minutes. I knew, by instinct, that she was crying bitterly; then I +was struck by the manner in which she looked round; it was evident to me +that she wished to be quite alone. At times the waves playing round the +wooden pillars made some unusual sound; she turned quickly, as though +she suspected some one was near her. Once a gentleman strolled leisurely +down the pier, stood for a few minutes watching the sea in silence, then +went away; while he was there she stood still and motionless as a +statue; then she looked round with a stealthy gaze—a gaze so unlike the +free, grand grace of her movements that I was struck by it. She could +not see me because I was in the deep shadow, but I could see every +gesture of hers. I saw her raise her face to the darkling skies, and I +felt that some despairing prayer was on her lip, and the reason why I +could see her so plainly was this, that she stood just where the rays of +the lamps fell brightly.</p> + +<p>It was a dramatic scene: the dark, heaving sea, with the fitful gleam of +the moonlight; the silent pier, with the one huge light; the tall, dark +figure standing there so motionless. Why did she look round with that +hurried stealthy glance, as though so desirous of being alone? Presently +she seemed to realize that she stood where the light fell brightest, and +she turned away. She walked to the side of the pier farthest from me, +where she stood opposite to the bright lights of the western pier. She +did not remain there long, but crossed again, and this time she chose +that part of the pier where I was sitting.</p> + +<p>Far back in the deep shade in the corner she did not see me; she did not +suspect that any one was near. I saw her give a hasty look down the +pier, but her glance never fell on the corner where I sat. She went to +the railings—one or two of them were broken and had not been repaired; +in a more frequented place it might, perhaps, have been dangerous. She +did not seem to notice it. She stood for some minutes in silence; then I +heard again bitter weeping, passionate sobs, long-drawn sighs. I heard a +smothered cry of "Oh, Heaven; oh, Heaven have pity!" and then a sickly +gleam of light came from the sky, and by its light I saw that she took +the bundle from under her arm. I could not see what it was or what it +held, but she bent her head over it, she kissed it, sobbed over it with +passionate sobs, then raised it above the railings and let it fall +slowly into the water.</p> + +<p>There was a slight splash; no other sound. As she raised the bundle I +saw distinctly that it was something wrapped in a gray and black shawl.</p> + +<p>I swear before Heaven that no thought of wrong came to my mind; I never +dreamed of it. I had watched her first because the rare grace of her +tall figure and of her walk came to me as a surprise, then because she +was evidently in such bitter sorrow, then because she seemed so desirous +of being alone, but never did one thought cross my mind that there was a +shadow of blame—or wrong; I should have been far more on the alert had +I thought so. I was always of a dreamy, sentimental, half-awake kind of +mind; I thought of nothing more than a woman, desperate, perhaps, with +an unhappy love, throwing the love-letters and presents of a faithless +lover into the sea—nothing more. I repeat this most emphatically, as I +should not like any suspicion of indolence or indifference to rest upon +me.</p> + +<p>A slight splash—not of anything heavy—no other sound; no cry, no +word—a moment's pause in the running of the waves, then they went on +again as gayly as ever, washing the wooden pillars, and wreathing them +with fresh seaweed. The tall figure, with the head bent over the rail, +might have been a statue for all the life or stir there was within her.</p> + +<p>Quite a quarter of an hour passed, and she did not stir. I began to +wonder if she were dead; her head was bent the whole time, watching the +waves as they ran hurrying past. Then the lady moon relented, and showed +her fair face again; a flood of silver fell over the sea—each wave +seemed to catch some of it, and break with a thousand ripples of +light—the white cliffs caught it—it fell on the old pier, and the tall +black figure stood out in bold relief against the moonlit sky.</p> + +<p>I was almost startled when she turned round, and I saw her face quite +plainly. The same light that revealed her pretty little face and figure, +threw a deeper shade over me. She looked anxiously up and down, yet by a +singular fatality never looked at the corner of the wooden building +where I sat. I have often wondered since that I did not cry out when I +saw that face—so wonderfully beautiful, but so marble white, so sad, so +intent, so earnest, the beautiful eyes wild with pain, the beautiful +mouth quivering. I can see it now, and I shall see it until I die.</p> + +<p>There was a low, broad brow, and golden-brown hair clustered on it—hair +that was like a crown; the face was oval-shaped, exquisitely beautiful, +with a short upper lip, a full, lovely under one, and a perfectly +modeled chin. But it was the face of a woman almost mad with despair.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Heaven! if I dare—if I dare!" she cried. She flung up her hands +with the gesture of one who has no hope; she looked over at the sea, +once more at the pier, then slowly turned away, and again quite plainly +I heard the words, "Oh, Heaven! if I dare—if I dare!"</p> + +<p>She then walked slowly away, and I lost sight of her under the silent +arches; but I could not forget her. What a face!—what beauty, what +passion, what pain, what love and despair, what goodness and power! What +a face! When should I ever forget it?</p> + +<p>Impelled by curiosity, I went to the railings, and I stood where she +stood. I looked down. How deep and fathomless it seemed, this running +sea! What was it she had dropped there? In my mind's eye I saw a most +pathetic little bundle made of love-letters; I pictured them tied with a +pretty faded ribbon; there would be dried flowers, each one a momento of +some happy occasion. I could fancy the dried roses, the withered +forget-me-nots, the violets, with some faint odor lingering still around +them. Then there would be a valentine, perhaps two or three; a +photograph, and probably an engagement ring. She had flung them away +into the depths of the sea, and only Heaven knows what hopes and love +she had flung with them! I could understand now what that cry meant—"If +I dare—if I dare!"</p> + +<p>It meant that if she dare she would fling herself into the sea after +them! How many hopes had been flung, like hers, into those black depths!</p> + +<p>Then I came to the conclusion that I was, to say the least of it, a +simpleton to waste so much time and thought about another person's +affairs.</p> + +<p>I remember that, as I walked slowly down the pier, I met several people, +and that I felt a glow of pleasure at the thought that some people had +the good sense to prefer the Chain Pier. And then I went home.</p> + +<p>A game at billiards, a long chat in the smoke-room, ought to have +distracted my mind from the little incident I had witnessed, but it did +not. My bed-room faced the sea, and I drew up the blind so that I might +look at it once more. The beautiful sea has many weird aspects, none +stranger than when it lies heaving sullenly under the light of the moon. +Fascinated, charmed, I stood to watch it. The moon had changed her mind; +she meant to shine now; the clouds had all vanished; the sky was dark +and blue; the stars were shining; but the wind had quickened, and the +waves rolled in briskly, with white, silvery foam marking their +progress.</p> + +<p>The Chain Pier stood out quite clear and distinct in the moonlight; very +fair and shapely it looked. Then I went to sleep and dreamed of the +white, beautiful, desperate face—of the woman who had, I believed, +thrown her love-letters into the sea. The wind grew rougher and the sea +grew angry during the night; when at times I woke from my sleep I could +hear them. Ah! long before this the love-letters had been destroyed—had +been torn by the swift waves; the faded flowers and all the pretty +love-tokens were done to death in the brisk waters. I wondered if, in +thought, that beautiful, desperate woman would go back to that spot on +the Chain Pier.</p> + +<p>The morning following dawned bright and calm; there was a golden +sunlight and a blue sea; why the color of the water should change so +greatly, I could not think, but change it did. I have seen it clear as +an emerald, and I have seen it blue as the lakes and seas of Italy. This +morning it wore a blue dress, and a thousand, brilliants danced on its +broad, sweet bosom. Already there were a number of people on the +promenade; both piers looked beautiful, and were full of life and +activity. It must have been some kind of holiday, although I forget for +what the flags were flying, and there was a holiday look about the town. +I thought I would walk for ten minutes before my breakfast. I went +toward the Chain Pier, drawn by the irresistible attraction of the face +I had seen there last evening.</p> + +<p>It struck me that there was an unusual number of people about the Chain +Pier; quite a crowd had collected at the gate. People were talking to +each other in an excited fashion. I saw one or two policemen, and I came +to the conclusion that some accident or other had happened on the pier. +I went up to the crowd—two or three boatmen stood leaning over the +rail.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Matter, sir?" replied one; "there is matter enough. There must have +been murder, or something very much like it, done on that pier last +night."</p> + +<p>"Murder?" I cried, with a beating heart; "do not use such a horrible +word."</p> + +<p>"It is a horrible thing, sir, but it has been done," replied the +boatman.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III" />CHAPTER III.</h3> + + +<p>Why the word "murder" struck me with such a horror I cannot tell. I +stood looking at the old boatman like one struck with dismay. I was on +the point of saying that it was quite impossible, for I had been on the +Chain Pier last night, and had seen nothing of the kind. Some prudent +impulse restrained me.</p> + +<p>"I would not go so far as to say it was murder," interrupted a sturdy +boatman. "I have been about here a great many years, and I have seen +some queer things. I should hardly call this murder."</p> + +<p>"It was a life taken away, whether you call it murder or not," said the +old man.</p> + +<p>"May be; but I am not sure. I have seen many mad with misery, but murder +is a rare thing."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"A child, sir—only a little child," said the sturdy boatman. "The body +of a little child found drowned off the pier here."</p> + +<p>Now, why should I start and tremble and grow sick at heart? What had it +to do with me? I knew nothing of any murdered child, yet great drops +formed on my brow, and my very heart trembled.</p> + +<p>"A little child found drowned," I repeated; "but how do you know it was +murdered? It may have fallen into the water."</p> + +<p>"It was not old enough for that, sir," said the elder boatman; "it is +but a fair little mite—a baby girl; they say not more than three months +old."</p> + +<p>Ah! why did the beautiful, desperate face I had seen the night before +flash before my eyes then?</p> + +<p>The boatman went on:</p> + +<p>"It is plain to my eyes that it is a murder, although the child is but a +tender babe; all the greater murder for that; a bigger child might have +helped itself; this one could not."</p> + +<p>"Tell me about it," I said.</p> + +<p>Ah! if my heart would but stop beating, or if the beautiful, desperate +face would but fade from my memory.</p> + +<p>"It was James Clayton who found it," continued the old man. "He was at +work in the jetty this morning when he caught sight of something moving +up and down with the waves. At first he thought it looked like an old +rag, and he took no notice of it; then something about it attracted his +attention more and more. He went nearer, and found that it was a gray +and black shawl, that had caught on some large hooks which had been +driven into the wooden pillars for some purpose or other—a woman's +shawl, sure as could be; some lady, he thought, had dropped it over the +pier, and it had caught on these hooks below the water. Jim was pleased. +He thought, if worth anything, he might get a trifle reward for it; if +not, he might take it home to his old mother.</p> + +<p>"He took his boat to the spot, but, sir, to Jim's surprise, he found it +was not only a shawl, but a bundle. He thought he had found a treasure, +and hastened to get it quickly off the hooks. It had been caught more +tightly by accident than it could have been placed there by human +hands. It was tight on the hooks, and he had to tear the shawl to get it +off. He lost no time opening it, and there was a little, fair child, +drowned and dead.</p> + +<p>"It was not a pleasant sight, sir, on a bright morning, when the +sunshine was dancing over the waves. Jim said his heart turned quite +faint when he saw the little white body—such a fair little mite, sir, +it was enough to make the very angels weep! Some woman, sir—Heaven +forbid that it was the mother—some woman had dressed it in pretty white +clothes. It had a white gown, with lace, and a soft white woolen cap on +the little golden head. A sorry sight, sir—a sorry sight! Jim said that +when he thought of that little tender body swinging to and fro with the +waves all the night, he could not keep the tears from his eyes.</p> + +<p>"It was meant to sink, you see, sir," continued the man, with rough +energy; "it was never meant to be caught. But the great God, He is above +all, and He knows the little one was not to sink to the bottom, like +lead. It is true, sir, and murder will out."</p> + +<p>"But is nothing known?" I asked. "Surely such a thing could never be +done without some one seeing or knowing something about it."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid, sir, no one knows but the one who did it. Some woman, sir, +had dressed the little thing—a man would never have thought of the soft +woolen cap. And I can tell you another thing, sir—a man would never +have killed a child like that; not that I am upholding men—some of them +are brutes enough—but I do not think any man would throw a little babe +into the water. When a woman is bad, she is bad, and there is nothing +vile enough for her."</p> + +<p>I though of the beautiful and desperate face. Heaven grant that she +might have nothing to do with this! And yet—the black and gray shawl!</p> + +<p>"Whereabouts was it?" I asked.</p> + +<p>He pointed with his hand to the very spot where she had stood.</p> + +<p>"Just there," he said. "It was there the little bundle was thrown, and +there, just below the line of the jetty, it was caught by the hooks."</p> + +<p>The identical spot where she had stood. Oh, beautiful, despairing face, +what was hidden underneath your mask of stone?</p> + +<p>"You should go on the pier, sir, and see for yourself," said the old +man. "The superintendent of the police is there now; but they will never +find out who did that. Women are deep when they are wicked, and the one +who did this was wicked enough."</p> + +<p>There was a slight suggestion on the part of the little group as to the +morning being a dry one. We parted on very satisfactory terms.</p> + +<p>I went on the pier, and under the wooden shelter where I had sat last +night I saw a group—the superintendent of the police with one of the +officers, the manager of the pier, the keepers of the different stalls, +a few strangers, and Jim, the boatman, who had found the little bundle +dripping wet. Oh, Heaven, the pathos of it! On the wooden seat lay the +little bundle, so white, so fair, like a small, pale rose-bud, and by +it, in a wet heap, lay the black and gray shawl. I knew it in one +moment; there was not another word to be said; that was the same shawl I +had seen in the woman's hands when she dropped the little bundle into +the sea—the self-same. I had seen it plainly by the bright, fitful +gleam of the moon. The superintendent said something to me, and I went +forward to look at the little child—so small, so fair, so tender—how +could any woman, with a woman's heart, drop that warm, soft little +nursling into the cold, deep sea? It was a woman who killed Joel—a +woman who slew Holofernes—but the woman who drowned this little, tiny +child was more cruel by far than they.</p> + +<p>"What a sweet little face!" said the superintendent; "it looks just as +though it were made of wax."</p> + +<p>I bent forward. Ah! if I had doubted before, I could doubt no longer. +The little face, even in its waxen pallor, was like the beautiful one I +had seen in its white despair last night. Just the same cluster of hair, +the same beautiful mouth and molded chin. Mother and child, I knew and +felt sure. The little white garments were dripping, and some kind, +motherly woman in the crowd came forward and dried the little face.</p> + +<p>"Poor little thing!" she said; "how I should like to take those wet +things off, and make it warm by a good fire!"</p> + +<p>"It will never be warm again in this world," said one of the boatmen. +"There is but little chance when a child has lain all night in the sea."</p> + +<p>"All night in the sea!" said the pitiful woman; "and my children lay so +warm and comfortable in their little soft beds. All night in the sea! +Poor little motherless thing!"</p> + +<p>She seemed to take it quite for granted that the child must be +motherless; in her loving, motherly heart she could not think of such a +crime as a mother destroying her own child. I saw that all the men who +stood round the body were struck with this.</p> + +<p>"What will be done with it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"It will go to the dead-house at the work-house," said the +superintendent, "and the parish will bury it."</p> + +<p>Then I stood forward.</p> + +<p>"No!" I cried; "if the authorities will permit, I will take upon myself +the expense of burying that little child—it shall not have a pauper's +funeral; it shall be buried in the beautiful green cemetery in the Lewes +Road, and it shall have a white marble cross at the head of its grave."</p> + +<p>"You are very good, sir," said the superintendent, and the pitiful woman +cried out:</p> + +<p>"Heaven bless you, sir! I would do the same thing myself if I could +afford it."</p> + +<p>"There must be an inquest," said some one in the crowd; "we ought to +know whether the child was dead before it was thrown into the water."</p> + +<p>"I hope to Heaven it was!" cried the woman.</p> + +<p>And I said to myself that, if that were the case, it would not be +murder—not murder, but some mad, miserable mother's way out of some +dreadful difficulty.</p> + +<p>Surely on the beautiful, despairing face I had not seen the brand of +murder. If the little one had been dead, that would lessen the degree of +wickedness so greatly.</p> + +<p>The woman who had dried and kissed the tiny waxen face bent over it now.</p> + +<p>"I am sure," she said, "that the child was alive when it touched the +water."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?" asked the superintendent, curiously.</p> + +<p>"Look at the face, sir, and you will see."</p> + +<p>"I see nothing," he replied.</p> + +<p>"I do," she said. "I see just what you would see on the face of a baby +suddenly plunged into cold water. I see the signs of faint, baby +surprise. Look at the baby brows and the little hand spread wide open. +It was living when it touched the water, I am sure of that."</p> + +<p>"A doctor will soon settle that question," said the superintendent.</p> + +<p>Then the little one was carried by rough but not ungentle hands to the +dead-house on the hill. I went with it. I overheard the superintendent +tell the master of the work-house that I was a rich man—an invalid—and +that I passed a great deal of my time at Brighton. In a lowered voice he +added that I was very eccentric, and that happening to be on the Chain +Pier that morning, I had insisted upon paying the expenses of the little +funeral.</p> + +<p>"A kind, Christian gentlemen," the master said. "I am glad to hear it."</p> + +<p>I shall never forget the pitiful sight of that tiny white form laid on +the table alone—quite alone—I could not forget it. The matron had +found a little white dress to wrap it in, and with kindly thought had +laid some white chrysanthemums on the little, innocent breast. Whenever +I see a chrysanthemum now it brings back to my mind the whole scene—the +bare, white walls, the clean wooden floor, the black tressels, and the +table whereon the fair, tender little body lay—all alone.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV" />CHAPTER IV.</h3> + + +<p>Our little life in this world seems of little count. Throw a stone into +the sea—it makes a splash that lasts for one second, then it is all +over; the waves roll on just as though it had not been dropped.</p> + +<p>The death of this one little child, whom no one knew and for whom no one +cared, was of less than no account; it made a small paragraph in the +newspapers—it had caused some little commotion on the pier—just a +little hurry at the work-house, and then it was forgotten. What was such +a little waif and stray—such a small, fair, tender little creature to +the gay crowd?</p> + +<p>"A child found drowned by the Chain Pier." Kind-hearted, motherly women +shrugged their shoulders with a sigh. The finding or the death of such +hapless little ones is, alas! not rare. I do not think of the hundreds +who carelessly heard the words that morning there was one who stopped to +think of the possible suffering of the child. It is a wide step from the +warmth of a mother's arms to the chill of the deep-sea water. The gay +tide of fashion ebbed and flowed just the same; the band played on the +Chain Pier the morning following; the sunbeams danced on the +water—there was nothing to remind one of the little life so suddenly +and terribly closed.</p> + +<p>There was not much more to tell. There was an inquest, but it was not of +much use. Every one knew that the child had been drowned; the doctor +thought it had been drugged before it was drowned; there was very little +to be said about it. Jim, the boatman, proved the finding of it. The +coroner said a few civil words when he heard that one of the visitors of +the town, out of sheer pity, had offered to defray the expenses of the +little funeral.</p> + +<p>The little unknown babe, who had spent the night in the deep sea, was +buried in the cemetery on the Lewes Road. I bought a grave for her under +the spreading boughs of a tree; she had a white pall and a quantity of +white flowers. The matron from the work-house went, and it was not at +all like a pauper's funeral. The sun was shining, and the balmy air was +filled with the song of birds; but then the sun does shine, and the +birds will sing, for paupers!</p> + +<p>I ordered a small white marble cross; it stands underneath the trees at +the head of the little green grove. When the head mason asked me what +name was to be put upon it, I was puzzled. Only Heaven knew whether the +helpless little child had a claim to any name, and, if so, what that +name was. I bethought myself of one name; it meant bitterness of deep +waters.</p> + +<p>"I will call it 'Marah,'" I said, and the name stands there on the +marble cross:</p> + +<p>"Marah, aged three weeks. Found drowned in the sea, September, 18—."</p> + +<p>Only one small grave among so many, but a grave over which no mother has +shed a tear. Then, after a few days more, I forgot almost all about it; +yet at that time I was so lonely, so utterly desolate, that I felt some +kind of tie bound me to the little grave, and made me love the spot. It +was soon all forgotten, but I never forgot the beautiful, despairing +face I had seen on the pier that night—the face that seemed to have +passed me with the quickness of a swift wind, yet which was impressed on +my brain forever.</p> + +<p>I have been writing to you, dear reader, behind a veil; let me draw it +aside. My name is John Ford—by no means a romantic name—but I come of +a good family. I am one of the world's unfortunates. I had neither +brother nor sister; my father and mother died while I was quite young; +they left me a large fortune, but no relations—no one to love me. My +guardian was a stern, grave elderly man; my youth was lonely, my manhood +more lonely still. I found a fair and dainty love, but she proved false; +she left me for one who had more gold and a title to give her. When I +lost her, all my happiness died; the only consolation I found was going +about from place to place trying to do good where I could. This little +incident on the Chain Pier aroused me more than anything had done for +some time.</p> + +<p>I had one comfort in life—a friend whom I loved dearer than a brother, +Lancelot Fleming; and lately he had come into possession of a very nice +estate called Dutton Manor, a fine old mansion, standing in the midst of +an extensive park, and with it an income of three thousand per annum. +Lance Fleming had been brought up to the bar, but he never cared much +for his profession, and was much pleased when he succeeded to his +cousin's estate.</p> + +<p>He had invited me several times to visit Dutton Manor, but something or +other had always intervened to prevent it. Lance came to see me; we +traveled together; we were the very opposite of each other. He was +frank, gay, cheerful, always laughing, always with some grand jest on +the tapis—a laughing, sunny, blue-eyed fellow, who was like a sunbeam +in every house he entered; he was always either whistling or singing, +and his bright, cheery voice trolled out such snatches of sweet song +that it was a pleasure to hear him.</p> + +<p>I am naturally melancholy, and have a tendency to look always on the +dark side of things. You can imagine how I loved Lance Fleming; the love +that other men give to wives, children, parents and relatives I lavished +on him. I loved his fair, handsome face, his laughing blue eyes, his +sunny smile, his cheery voice; I loved his warm-hearted, genial manner. +In fact, I loved the whole man, just as he was, with a love passing that +of women—loved him as I shall love no other.</p> + +<p>Naturally enough, Lance was a great favorite with the ladies; every +woman who saw him loved him more or less. He was quite irresistible +when, in addition to his handsome face and sweet temper, came the charm +of being master of a grand old manor-house, with three thousand per +annum. No wonder that he was popular. The only thing which troubled me +about Lance was his marriage; I always feared it. With his gay, +passionate temperament, his universal admiration and chivalrous manner +of treating the fair sex, it was certain that he would, sooner or later, +fall in love and marry. From what I knew of him, from the innate +conviction of my own love, I felt sure that his marriage would be the +hinge on which his whole life would turn. I was very anxious about it, +and talked to him a great deal about it when we were together.</p> + +<p>"If you marry the right woman, Lance," I said to him, "you will be one +of the happiest and most successful men in the world; but if you should +make a mistake, you will be one of the most miserable."</p> + +<p>"I shall make no mistake, John. I know that somewhere or other the most +adorable woman in the whole world is waiting for me. I shall be sure to +find her, and fall in love with her, marry her, and live happy forever +afterward."</p> + +<p>"But you will be careful, Lance?" I said.</p> + +<p>"As careful as a man can be; but, John, as you are so anxious, you had +better choose for me."</p> + +<p>"No," I replied. "I made so great a mistake when I had to choose for +myself that I shall never attempt it again."</p> + +<p>Circumstances happened that drew me over to America. I had a large +interest in some land there, and not caring about the trouble of it, I +went over to sell it. I succeeded in selling it to great profit, and as +I liked America I remained there three years. I sailed for America in +the month of October, two or three weeks after the incident of the Chain +Pier, and I returned to England after an absence of three years and +seven months. I found myself at home again when the lovely month of May +was at its fairest. During all that time only one incident of any note +happened to me, or, rather, happened that interested me. Lance Fleming +was married.</p> + +<p>He wrote whole volumes to me before his marriage, and he wrote whole +volumes afterwards. Of course, she was perfection—nay, just a little +beyond perfection, I think. She was beautiful, clever, accomplished, +and such a darling—of course, I might be sure of that. One thing only +was wanted to make him perfectly happy—it was that I should see his +lady-love. Her name was Frances Wynn, and he assured me that it was the +most poetical name in the world. Page after page of rhapsody did he +write and I read, until at last I believed him, that he had found the +one perfect woman in the world.</p> + +<p>Lance wrote oftener still when I told him that I was coming home. I must +go at once to Dutton Manor. I should find Dutton Manor an earthly +Paradise, he said, and he was doubly delighted that I should be there in +May, for in May it wore its fairest aspect.</p> + +<p>"A wife makes home heaven, John," he never tired of writing. "I wonder +often why Heaven has blessed me so greatly. My wife is—well, I worship +her—she is a proud woman, calm, fair, and lovely as a saint. You will +never know how much I love her until you have seen her. She fills the +old manor-house with sunshine and music. I love to hear the gentle sound +of her voice, sweet and low as the sound of a lute—the frou-frou of her +dress as she moves about. I am even more in love with her than when I +married her, and I should not have thought that possible. Make haste +home, John, my dear old friend; even my happy home is incomplete without +you. Come and share its brightness with me."</p> + +<p>He wrote innumerable directions for my journey. The nearest railway +station to Dutton Manor was at Vale Royal, a pretty little town about +three miles from the house. If I would let him know by what train I +should reach Vale Royal, he would be at the station to meet me. And he +said—Heaven bless his dear, loving heart—that he was looking forward +to it with untold happiness.</p> + +<p>"When I think of seeing Frances and you together," he said, "I feel like +a school-boy out for a holiday. I will count the hours, John, until you +come."</p> + +<p>I had to go to London on business, and while there it was impossible to +resist the temptation of running on to Brighton. I loved the place so +well, and I had not seen it for so long. I wanted to stand once more on +the Chain Pier, and think of my lost heaven. How vividly it all came +back to me—that terrible tragedy, although more than three years had +passed since it happened. There was the corner where I had sat in the +thick, soft shadows; there was the railing against which she leaned when +she threw the little bundle in the water.</p> + +<p>I remembered the fitful light, the wash of the waves round the pier, the +beautiful, desperate face, and the voice that had wailed: "If I dare! +oh, my God, if I dare!"</p> + +<p>I went to see the little grave. The thick green grass which covered is +was studded with white daisies, the golden letters on the white cross +seemed to burn in the sunlight; "Marah. Found drowned." I had been to +the other end of the world, but no one had been to shed a tear over the +little grave.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V" />CHAPTER V.</h3> + + +<p>The face of an old friend is good to see after a long absence. Tears +filled my eyes when the sunny blue ones looked into them, and the +handsome face, quivering with emotion, smiled into mine. I was glad to +feel once more the clasp of that honest hand.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Lance," I cried, "I would travel twice as far for one hour with +you!"</p> + +<p>I shall never forget that pretty station at Vale Royal. A beautiful +brawling river ran close by, spanned by an old-fashioned rustic bridge; +three huge chestnut trees, now in full flower, seemed to shade the whole +place.</p> + +<p>"A pretty spot," said proud, happy Lance; "but wait till you see Dutton! +I tell Frances that I am quite sure it is the original garden of +Paradise!"</p> + +<p>"Let us pray that no serpent may enter therein," I said.</p> + +<p>"There is no fear, John," he replied; "my Frances would be an antidote +against all the serpents in the world. We shall have a glorious drive +home! How do you like my carriage?"</p> + +<p>It was perfect, so were the horses, so was the groom in his neat livery, +so was the dogcart waiting for the luggage, so was the magnificent +retriever that ran with the carriage. What a drive it was! Of all +seasons, in all climes, give me an English spring. The hedges were +covered with white and pink hawthorn; the apple trees were all in bloom; +the air was redolent of mariets. The white lambs were in the meadows; +the leaves were springing on the trees; the birds singing.</p> + +<p>"It is like a new life, John," said the happy young fellow by my side; +then, quite unable to keep his thoughts or his words long away from her, +he continued: "Frances will be so pleased to see you; we have talked of +nothing else for a week."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that she will be disappointed when she sees me, Lance."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," he replied, heartily. "You look better than you did when +you went to America, John—you look younger, less haggard, less worn. +Perhaps you have found some comfort?"</p> + +<p>"Not of the kind you mean, Lance," I answered, "and I never shall."</p> + +<p>"Ah," he said, musingly, "what mischief one bad woman can make! And she +was a bad woman, this false love of yours, John."</p> + +<p>"If she had been a good one, she would have been true," I replied.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Lance, musingly, "that in all this world there is +nothing so horrible as a bad—a really bad or wicked woman! They seem to +me much worse than men, just as a good woman is better than a man could +ever be—is little less than an angel.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," he continued, his voice trembling with emotion, "I did +not understand how good a woman could be! My wife, Frances, is quite an +angel. When I see her in the morning, her fair face so fresh and pure, +kneeling down to say her prayers, I feel quite unworthy of her; when I +see the rapt, earnest expression of her face, as we sit side by side in +church, I long to be like her! She is one of the gentlest and sweetest +of women; there is no one like her!"</p> + +<p>"I am heartily glad that you are so happy, my dearest Lance," I said.</p> + +<p>He continued: "I know that my talking does not bore you; you are too +true a friend; it eases my heart, for it is always full of her. You do +not know how good she is! Why, John, the soul of a good woman is clear +and transparent, like a deep, clear lake; and in it one sees such +beautiful things. When my Frances speaks to a little child there comes +into her voice a beautiful tenderness—a ring of such clear music, that +I say to myself it is more like the voice of an angel than of a woman; +it is just the same when she speaks to any one in sorrow or sickness. +The strange thing to me is this: that though she is so good herself, so +pure and innocent, she has such profound compassion for the fallen and +the miserable. At Vale Royal, only a few months ago, there was one of +those unfortunate cases. A poor servant-girl—a very pretty and nice +girl, too, she was—was turned out of her mistress' house in the cold of +a winter's night; her boxes and wages were put in the street, and she +was told to go to the work-house. She almost went mad with despair and +shame. Frances would go to the rescue, and I honestly believe that +through my wife's charity and goodness that unhappy girl will be +restored to her place in the world, or that, at least, she will not go, +as she would otherwise have done, to the bad. I thought that a most +beautiful trait in her character."</p> + +<p>"So it was," I replied, liking my dear old friend all the better for his +great love for his wife.</p> + +<p>"She is always the same," he continued, "full of charity and tenderness +for the poor. You could not think how much they love her. All around +Vale Royal she is worshiped. I am a very fortunate man, John."</p> + +<p>"You are indeed," I replied.</p> + +<p>He went on:</p> + +<p>"I always had my ideal. I have known many. None ever reached my standard +but Frances, and she is my ideal come to life—the reality found, fair, +sweet, and true, a blonde, queenly woman. I should think that very few +men meet and marry their ideal as I have met and married mine. Ah, there +is the avenue that leads to the old manor-house! Who could have thought +that I should ever be master of a manor-house, John? Neither that nor +the handsome income belonging to it would be of any use without Frances. +It is Frances who makes the world to me."</p> + +<p>The avenue was a superb one. It consisted of tall chestnut trees +standing four deep. I have seen nothing finer. Just now the flowers were +all in bloom, the bees and butterflies had been all drawn there by their +odor; the birds were flitting in and out, making grand discoveries in +the great boughs; the ground was a carpet of flowers, white daisies and +golden buttercups mixed with wild hyacinths and graceful blue-bells. We +drove for some few minutes over this carpet, and then the old gray +manor-house stood before us, the prettiest picture ever seen on a +summer's day. The whole front of the house was covered with flowers, and +the ivy grew green and thick; it climbed to the very top of the towers.</p> + +<p>"Famous ivy," said Lance. "People come to Dutton to look at the ivy."</p> + +<p>"I do not wonder at it," I said.</p> + +<p>I was somewhat surprised at the style o the house. I had not expected +anything so grand, so beautiful.</p> + +<p>"We shall have time for a cigar and a stroll before dinner," said Lance, +as he threw the reins to the groom; "but you must see Frances first, +John—you must see her."</p> + +<p>But one of the servants told us that Mrs. Fleming was in the +drawing-room, engaged with Lady Ledbitter. Lance's face fell.</p> + +<p>"You do not seem to care for Lady Ledbitter," I said to him.</p> + +<p>"In truth I do not; she is a county magnate, and a local horror I call +her. She leads all the ladies of the country; they are frightened to +death of her; they frown when she frowns, smile when she smiles. I +begged of Frances not to fall under her sway, but I have begged in vain, +no doubt. If she has been there for half and hour Frances will have +given in."</p> + +<p>He turned on me suddenly, so suddenly, indeed, that he almost startled +me.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," he said, "those kind of women, fair and calm, whose +thoughts seem to be always turned inward? My wife is one of those; when +one talks to her she listens with her eyes down, and seems as though she +had left another world of thought just for your sake. Her manner always +piques one to go on talking for the sake of making her smile. I can just +imagine how she looks now, while Lady Ledbitter talks to her. Well, come +to your own room, John, and we will stroll round the grounds until her +ladyship has retreated."</p> + +<p>What a beautiful old house it was! One could tell so easily that a lady +of taste and refinement presided over it. The fine old oak was not +covered, but contrasting with it were thick, crimson rugs, hangings of +crimson velvet, and it was relieved by any amount of flowers; beautiful +pictures were hung with exquisite taste; white statues stood out in +grand relief against the dark walls.</p> + +<p>"Your wife is a woman of taste, that is quite evident, Lance," I said.</p> + +<p>My own room—a spacious chamber called the Blue Chamber—a large, +old-fashioned room with three windows, each window seat as large as a +small room; the hangings were of blue and white; there were a few +jardinieres with costly, odorous flowers; easy chairs, a comfortable +couch. Little stands had been placed with easy chairs in the window +seats; the room looked as though bluebells had been strewn with a +liberal hand on white ground.</p> + +<p>"How beautiful!" I cried; "I shall never want to leave this room again, +Lance."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would stay and never leave us; I am happy enough in having +Frances; if I had you as well, my happiness would be complete. You have +all you want, John; I will send your portmanteau."</p> + +<p>When Lance had gone I looked round my room and fell in love with it. It +had the charm of old fashion, of elegance, of space, of height, and from +the windows there was a magnificent view of the park and the gardens.</p> + +<p>"Lance must indeed be a happy man." I thought to myself.</p> + +<p>He came to me when I was dressed and we went out for a stroll through +the gardens.</p> + +<p>"We shall hear the dinner-bell," said Lance. "We will not go too far."</p> + +<p>We saw the stately equipage of Lady Ledbitter driven down the avenue.</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven!" said Lance. "Now Frances is free. She will have gone to +her room. That good Lady Ledbitter has robbed us of a pleasant hour."</p> + +<p>I was surprised and delighted at the magnificence of the grounds. I had +never dreamed that Dutton manor-house was so extensive or so beautiful.</p> + +<p>"The great artist, Lilias, is coming here next week," said Lance. "I +want him to paint my wife's portrait. She will make a superb picture, +and when completed, that picture shall have the place of honor here in +the drawing-room. You will enjoy meeting him; he is a most intelligent, +amiable man."</p> + +<p>That good Lance; it seemed to me quite impossible that he could speak +even these words without bringing in Frances; but how bright and happy +he looked! I envied him.</p> + +<p>"Do as I have done, John," he said "Marry. Believe me, no man knows what +happiness means until he does marry."</p> + +<p>"You must find me a wife just like your own," I said, and the words came +back to me afterward with a fervent prayer of "Heaven forbid!—may +Heaven forbid!"</p> + +<p>"I shall never marry now, Lance," I said. "The only woman I could ever +love is dead to me."</p> + +<p>He looked at me very earnestly.</p> + +<p>"I wish you would forget all about her, John. She was not worthy of +you."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not," I replied; "but that does not interfere with the love."</p> + +<p>"Why should you give all that loving heart of yours to one woman, John?" +he said. "If one fails, try another."</p> + +<p>"If your Frances died, should you love another woman?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"That is quite another thing," he said, and I saw in his heart he +resented the fact that I should place the woman who had been faithless +to me on an equality with his wife. Poor Lance!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI" />CHAPTER VI.</h3> + + +<p>As we drew near the house on our return, the first dinner-bell was +ringing.</p> + +<p>"We have twenty minutes yet," said Lance; "you will just have time to +say a few words to Frances; she is sure to be in the drawing-room."</p> + +<p>We went there. When the door was opened I saw a magnificent room—long, +lofty and bright, so cheerful and light—with such beautiful furniture, +and such superb hangings of white and gold. I was struck as I had never +been by any room before. The long French windows, opening like glass +doors, looked over a superb flower-garden, where flowers of every hue +were now in blossom.</p> + +<p>The room was full of sunlight; it faced the west, and the sun was +setting. For a few moments my eyes were dazzled; then as the golden haze +cleared, I saw a tall figure at the other end of the room, a beautiful +figure, dressed in a long robe of blue, with a crown of golden brown +hair; when she turned suddenly to us, I saw that she carried some sprays +of white hawthorn in her hand. At first my attention was concentrated on +the golden hair, the blue dress, the white flowers; then slowly, as +though following some irresistible magnetic attraction, my eyes were +raised to her face, and remained fixed there. I have wondered a thousand +times since how it was that no cry escaped my lips—how it was that none +of the cold, sick horror that filled my whole heart and soul did not +find vent in words. How was it? To this moment I cannot tell. Great +Heaven! what did I see? In this beloved and worshiped wife—in this fair +and queenly woman—in this tender and charitable lady, who was so good +to the fallen and miserable—in this woman, idolized by the man I loved +best upon earth, I saw the murderess—the woman who had dropped the +little bundle over the railing into the sea.</p> + +<p>It was she as surely as heaven shone above us. I recognized the +beautiful face, the light golden hair, the tall, graceful figure. The +face was not white, set desperate now, but bright, with a soft, sweet +radiance I have seen on the face of no other woman living. For an +instant my whole heart was paralyzed with horror. I felt my blood grow +cold and gather round my heart, leaving my face and hands cold. She came +forward to greet me with the same graceful, undulating grace which had +struck me before. For a moment I was back on the Chain Pier, with the +wild waste of waters around me, and the rapid rush of the waves in my +ear. Then a beautiful face was smiling into mine—a white hand, on which +rich jewels shone, was held out to me, a voice sweeter than any music I +had ever heard, said:</p> + +<p>"You are welcome to Dutton, Mr. Ford. My husband will be completely +happy now."</p> + +<p>Great Heaven! how could this woman be a murderess—the beautiful face, +the clear, limpid eyes—how could it be? No sweeter mouth ever smiled, +and the light that lay on her face was the light of Heaven itself. How +could it be?</p> + +<p>She seemed to wonder a little at my coldness, for she added:</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see you, and Lance has thought of +nothing else during the last week."</p> + +<p>I wonder that I didn't cry out, "You are the woman who drowned the +little child off the Chain Pier." It was only the sight of Lance's face +that deterred me. I had some vague, indistinct notion of what those +words would be to him.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, John?" asked Lance, impatiently. "The sight of my +wife's face seems to have struck you dumb."</p> + +<p>"It must be with admiration, then," I said, making a desperate effort to +recover myself. "I could almost think I had seen Mrs. Fleming's face +before."</p> + +<p>She looked at me frankly, and she laughed frankly.</p> + +<p>"I have a good memory for faces," she said; "and I do not remember to +have seen yours."</p> + +<p>There was no shadow of fear or of any effect at concealment; she did not +change color or shrink from me.</p> + +<p>Lance laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>"I wonder no longer at your being a bachelor," he said; "if the sight of +a beautiful face produces such a strange effect on you. You must deal +gently with him, Frances," he said to his wife; "his nerves are weak—he +cannot bear much at a time."</p> + +<p>"I promise to be very gentle," she said; and the music of that low, +caressing voice thrilled my very heart. "I think," she continued, "that +Mr. Ford looks very tired, Lance, pale and worn. We must take great care +of him."</p> + +<p>"That we will," was the hearty reply.</p> + +<p>Great Heaven! was it a murderess standing there, with that sweet look of +compassion on her beautiful face? Could this woman, who looked pitifully +on me, a grown man, drown a little child in the deep sea? Were those +lips, littering kindly words of welcome, the same that had cried in mad +despair, "Oh, Heaven! if I dare—if I dare?" I could have killed myself +for the base suspicion. Yet it was most surely she!</p> + +<p>I stooped to pick up the white hawthorn she had dropped. She took it +from me with the sweetest smile, and Lance stood by, looking on with an +air of proud proprietorship that would have been amusing if it had not +been so unutterably pitiful.</p> + +<p>While my brain and mind were still chaos—a whirl of thought and +emotion—the second dinner-bell rang. I offered her my arm, but I could +not refrain from a shudder as her white hand touched it. When I saw that +hand last it was most assuredly dropping the little burden into the sea. +Lance looked at us most ruefully, so that she laughed and said:</p> + +<p>"Come with us, Lance."</p> + +<p>She laid her other hand on his arm, and we all three walked into the +dining-room together.</p> + +<p>I could not eat any dinner—I could only sit and watch the beautiful +face. It was the face of a good woman—there was nothing cruel, nothing +subtle in it. I must be mistaken. I felt as though I should go mad. She +was a perfect hostess—most attentive—most graceful. I shall never +forget her kindness to me any more than I shall forget the comeliness of +her face or the gleam of her golden hair.</p> + +<p>She thought I was not well. She did not know that it was fear which had +blanched my face and made me tremble; she could not tell that it was +horror which curdled my blood. Without any fuss—she was so anxiously +considerate for me—without seeming to make any ceremony, she was so +gracefully kind; she would not let me sit in the draughts; with her own +hands she selected some purple grapes for me. This could never be the +woman who had drowned a little child.</p> + +<p>When dinner was over and we were in the drawing-room again, she drew a +chair near the fire for me.</p> + +<p>"You will laugh at the notion of a fire in May," she said; "but I find +the early summer evenings chilly, and I cannot bear the cold."</p> + +<p>I wondered if she thought of the chill of the water in which she had +plunged the little child. I looked at her; there was not even a fleeting +shadow on her face. Then she lingered for half a minute by my side.</p> + +<p>As she drew near to me, I felt again that it was utterly impossible +that my suspicions could be correct, and that I must be mistaken.</p> + +<p>"I hope," she said, "you will not think what I am going to say strange. +I know that it is the custom for some wives to be jealous of their +husband's friends—some might be jealous of you. I want to tell you that +I am not one of that kind. I love my husband so utterly, so entirely, +that all whom he loves are dear to me. You are a brother, friend, +everything to him—will you be the same to me?"</p> + +<p>A beautiful woman asking, with those sweet, sensitive lips, for my +friendship, looking at me with those calm, tender eyes, asking me to +like her for her husband's sake—the sweetest, the most gracious, the +most graceful picture I had ever seen. Yet, oh, Heaven! a murderess, if +ever there was one! She wondered why I did not respond to her advances. +I read the wonder in her face.</p> + +<p>"You do not care for hasty friends," she said. "Well, Lance and I are +one; if you like him, you must like me, and time will show."</p> + +<p>"You are more than good to me," I stammered, thinking in my heart if she +had been but half as good to the little helpless child she flung into +the sea.</p> + +<p>I have never seen a woman more charming—of more exquisite grace—of +more perfect accomplishment—greater fascination of manner. She sang to +us, and her voice was full of such sweet pathos it almost brought the +tears in my eyes. I could not reconcile what I saw now with what I had +seen on the Chain Pier, though outwardly the same woman I had seen on +the Chain Pier and this graceful, gracious lady could not possibly be +one. As the evening passed on, and I saw her bright, cheerful ways, her +devotion to her husband, her candid, frank open manner, I came to the +conclusion that I must be the victim either of a mania or of some +terrible mistake. Was it possible, though, that I could have been? Had I +not had the face clearly, distinctly, before me for the past three +years?</p> + +<p>One thing struck me during the evening. Watching her most narrowly, I +could not see in her any under-current of feeling; she seemed to think +what she said, and to say just what she thought; there were no musings, +no reveries, no fits of abstraction, such as one would think would go +always with sin or crime. Her attention was given always to what was +passing; she was not in the least like a person with anything weighing +on her mind. We were talking, Lance and I, of an old friend of ours, who +had gone to Nice, and that led to a digression on the different watering +places of England. Lance mentioned several, the climate of which he +declared was unsurpassed—those mysterious places of which one reads in +the papers, where violets grow in December, and the sun shines all the +year round. I cannot remember who first named Brighton, but I do +remember that she neither changed color nor shrank.</p> + +<p>"Now for a test," I said to myself. I looked at her straight in the +face, so that no expression of hers could escape me—no shadow pass over +her eyes unknown to me.</p> + +<p>"Do you know Brighton at all?" I asked her. I could see to the very +depths of those limpid eyes. No shadow came; the beautiful, attentive +face did not change in the least. She smiled as she replied:</p> + +<p>"I do not. I know Bournemouth and Eastbourne very well; I like +Bournemouth best."</p> + +<p>We had hardly touched upon the subject, and she had glided from it, yet +with such seeming unconsciousness. I laughed, yet, I felt that my lips +were stiff and the sound of my voice strange.</p> + +<p>"Every one knows Brighton," I said. "It is not often one meets an +English lady who does not know it."</p> + +<p>She looked at me with the most charming and frank directness.</p> + +<p>"I spent a few hours there once," she said. "From the little I saw of it +I took it for a city of palaces."</p> + +<p>"It is a beautiful place," I said.</p> + +<p>She rose with languid grace and went to the table.</p> + +<p>"I think I will ring for some tea," she said. "I am chill and cold in +spite of the fire. Mr. Ford, will you join me?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII" />CHAPTER VII.</h3> + + +<p>My feelings when I reached my room that night were not to be envied. I +was as firmly convinced of the identity of the woman as I was of the +shining of the sun. There could not be any mistake; I had seen her face +quite plainly in the moonlight, and it had been too deeply impressed on +my mind for me to forget it, or to mistake it for another. Indeed, the +horror of the discovery was still upon me; my nerves were trembling; my +blood was cold. How could it be that my old friend Lance had made so +terrible a mistake? How could I bear to know that the wife whom he +worshiped was a murderess? What else she had been, I did not care even +to think; whose child it was, or why she had drowned it, I could not, +dare not think.</p> + +<p>I could not sleep or rest; my mind and brain were at variance with +themselves. Frances Fleming seemed to me a fair, kind-hearted, loving, +woman, graceful as fair; the woman I had seen on the Chain Pier was a +wild, desperate creature, capable of anything. I could not rest; the +soft bed of eiderdown, the sheets of pure linen perfumed with lavender, +the pillows, soft as though filled with down from the wings of a bird, +could bring no rest to me.</p> + +<p>If this woman were anything but what she seemed to be, if she were +indeed a murderess, how dare she deceive Lance Fleming? Was it right, +just or fair that he should give the love of his honest heart, the +devotion of his life, to a woman who ought to have been branded? I +wished a thousand times over that I had never seen the Chain Pier, or +that I had never come to Dutton Manor House; yet it might be that I was +the humble instrument intended by Providence to bring to light a great +crime. It seemed strange that of all nights in the year I should have +chosen that one; it seemed strange that after keeping the woman's face +living in my memory for so long I should so suddenly meet it in life. +There was something more than mere coincidence in this; yet it seemed a +horrible thing to do, to come under the roof of my dearest friend and +ruin his happiness forever.</p> + +<p>Then the question came—was it not better for him to know the truth than +to live in a fool's paradise—to take to his heart a murderess—to live +befooled and die deceived? My heart rose in hot indignation against the +woman who had blighted his life, who would bring home to him such shame +and anguish as must tear his heart and drive him mad.</p> + +<p>I could not suppose, for one moment, that I was the only one in the +world who knew her secret—there must be others, and, meeting her +suddenly, one of these might betray her secret, might do her greater +harm and more mischief than I could do. After hours of weary thought, I +came to this conclusion, that I must find out first of all whether my +suspicions were correct or not. That was evidently my first duty. I must +know whether there was any truth in my suspicions or not. I hated myself +for the task that lay before me, to watch a woman, to seek to entrap +her, to play the detective, to seek to discover the secret of one who +had so frankly and cordially offered me friendship.</p> + +<p>Yet it was equally hateful to know that a bad and wicked woman, branded +with sin, stained with murder, had deceived an honest, loyal man like +Lance Fleming. Look which way I would, it was a most cruel +dilemma—pity, indignation, wonder, fear, reluctance, all tore at my +heart. Was Frances Fleming the good, pure, tender-hearted woman she +seemed to be, or was she the woman branded with a secret brand? I must +find out for Lance's sake. There were times when intense pity softened +my heart, almost moved me to tears; then the recollection of the tiny +white baby lying all night in the sea, swaying to and fro with the +waves, steeled me. I could see again the pure little waxen face, as the +kindly woman kissed it on the pier. I could see the little green grave +with the shining cross—"Marah, found drowned," and here beside me, +talking to me, tending me with gentle solicitude, was the very woman, I +feared, who had drowned the child. There were times—I remember one +particularly—when she held out a bunch of fine hothouse grapes to me, +that I could have cried out—"It is the hand of a murderess; take it +away," but I restrained myself.</p> + +<p>I declare that, during a whole fortnight, I watched her incessantly; I +scrutinized every look, every gesture; I criticised every word, and in +neither one nor the other did I find the least shadow of blame. She +seemed to me pure in heart, thought and word. At times, when she read or +sang to us, there was a light such as one fancies the angels wear. Then +I found also what Lance said of her charity to the poor was perfectly +true—they worshipped her. No saint was a greater saint to them than the +woman whom I believed I had seen drown a little child.</p> + +<p>It seemed as though she could hardly do enough for them; the minute she +heard that any one was sick or sorry she went to their aid. I have known +this beautiful woman, whose husband adored her, give up a ball or a +party to sit with some poor woman whose child was ill, or was ill +herself. And I must speak, too, of her devotion—to see the earnest, +tender piety on her beautiful face was marvelous.</p> + +<p>"Look, John," Lance would whisper to me; "my wife looks like an angel."</p> + +<p>I was obliged to own that she did. But what was the soul like that +animated the beautiful body?</p> + +<p>When we were talking—and we spent many hours together in the garden—I +was struck with the beauty and nobility of her ideas. She took the right +side of everything; her wisdom was full of tenderness; she never once +gave utterance to a thought or sentence but that I was both pleased and +struck with it. But for this haunting suspicion I should have pronounced +her a perfect woman, for I could see no fault in her. I had been a +fortnight at Dutton Manor, and but for this it would have been a very +happy fortnight. Lance and I had fallen into old loving terms of +intimacy, and Frances made a most lovable and harmonious third. A whole +fortnight I had studied her, criticised her, and was more bewildered +than ever—more sure of two things: The first was that it was next to +impossible that she had ever been anything different to what she was +now; the second, that she must be the woman I had seen on the pier. +What, under those circumstances, was any man to do?</p> + +<p>No single incident had happened to interrupt the tranquil course of +life, but from day to day I grew more wretched with the weight of my +miserable secret.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, I remember that the lilacs were all in bloom, and Lance +sat with his beautiful wife where a great group of trees stood. When I +reached them they were speaking of the sea.</p> + +<p>"I always long for the sea in summertime," said Lance; "when the sun is +hot and the air full of dust, and no trees give shade, and the grass +seems burned, I long for the sea. Love of water seems almost mania with +me, from the deep blue ocean, with its foaming billows, to the smallest +pool hidden in a wood. It is strange, Frances, with your beauty-loving +soul, that you dislike the sea."</p> + +<p>She had gathered a spray of the beautiful lilac and held it to her lips. +Was it the shade of the flower, or did the color leave her face? If so, +it was the first time I had seen it change.</p> + +<p>"Do you really dislike the sea, Mrs. Fleming?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, laconically.</p> + +<p>"Why?" I asked again.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell," she answered. "It must be on the old principle—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>"'I do not like thee, Doctor Fell,<br /></span> +<span>The reason why—I cannot tell!<br /></span> +<span>But only this I know full well,<br /></span> +<span>I do not like thee, Doctor Fell!'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Those lines hardly apply to the sea," I said. "I thought love for the +sea was inborn with every man and woman in England."</p> + +<p>"It is not with me," she said.</p> + +<p>She spoke quite gently. There was not the least hurry or confusion, but +I was quite sure the color had faded from her face. Was it possible that +I had found a hole the strong armor at last?</p> + +<p>Lance turned a laughing face to me.</p> + +<p>"My wife is as strong in her dislikes as in her likes," he said. "She +never will go to the sea. Last year I spent a whole month in trying to +persuade her; this year I have begun in good time, and I intend to give +it three months' good trial, but I am afraid it will be quite in vain."</p> + +<p>"Why do you dislike the sea?" I repeated. "You must have a reason."</p> + +<p>"I think," she replied, "it makes me melancholy and low spirited."</p> + +<p>"Well it might!" I thought, for the rush and fall of the waves must be +like a vast requiem to her.</p> + +<p>"That is not the effect the sea has upon most people," I said.</p> + +<p>"No, I suppose not; it has upon me," she answered. Then smiling at me as +she went on: "You seem to think it is my fault, Mr. Ford, that I do not +love the sea."</p> + +<p>"It is your misfortune," I replied, and our eyes met.</p> + +<p>I meant nothing by the words, but a shifting, curious look came into her +face, and for the first time since I had been there her eyes fell before +mine.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is," she said, quietly; but from the moment we were never +quite the same again. She watched me curiously, and I knew it.</p> + +<p>"Like or dislike, Frances, give way this time," said Lance, "and John +will go with us."</p> + +<p>"Do you really wish it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I should like it; I think it would do us all good. And, after all, +yours is but a fancy, Frances."</p> + +<p>"If we go at all," she said, "let us go to the great Northern sea, not +to the South, where it is smiling and treacherous."</p> + +<p>"Those southern seas hide much," I said; and again she looked at me with +a curious, intent gaze—a far-off gaze, as though she were trying to +make something out.</p> + +<p>"What do they hide, John?" asked Lance, indifferently.</p> + +<p>"Sharp rocks and shifting sands," I answered.</p> + +<p>"So do the Northern seas," he replied.</p> + +<p>A soft, sweet voice said: "Every one has his own taste. I love the +country; you love the sea. I find more beauty in this bunch of lilac +than I should in all the seaweed that was ever thrown on the beach; to +me there is more poetry and more loveliness in the ripple of the leaves, +the changeful hues of the trees and flowers, the corn in the fields, the +fruit in the orchards, than in the perpetual monotony of the sea."</p> + +<p>"That is not fair, Frances," cried Lance. "Say what you will, but never +call the sea monotonous—it is never that; it always gives on the +impression of power and majesty."</p> + +<p>"And of mystery," I interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Of mystery," she repeated, and the words seemed forced from her in +spite of herself.</p> + +<p>"Yes, of mystery!" I said. "Think what is buried in the sea! Think of +the vessels that have sank laden with human beings! No one will know +one-third of the mysteries of the sea until the day when she gives up +the dead."</p> + +<p>The spray of lilac fell to the ground. She rose quickly and made no +attempt to regain it.</p> + +<p>"It is growing chilly," she said; "I will go into the house."</p> + +<p>"A strange thing that my wife does not like the sea," said Lance.</p> + +<p>But it was not strange to my mind—not strange at all.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII" />CHAPTER VIII.</h3> + + +<p>My suspicion, from that time, I felt was a truth. I knew that there were +characters so complex that no human being could understand them. Here +was a beautiful surface—Heaven only knew what lay underneath. There was +no outward brand of murder on the white brow, or red stain on the soft, +white hand. But day by day the certainty grew in my mind. Another thing +struck me very much. We were sitting one day quite alone on the grass +near a pretty little pool of water, called "Dutton Pool." In some parts +it was very shallow, in some very deep. Lance had gone somewhere on +business, and had left us to entertain each other. I had often noticed +that one of Mrs. Fleming's favorite ornaments was a golden locket with +one fine diamond in the center; she wore it suspended by a small chain +from her neck. As she sat talking to me she was playing with the chain, +when it suddenly became unfastened and the locket fell from it. In less +than a second it was hidden in the long grass. She looked for it in +silence for some minutes, then she said, gently:</p> + +<p>"I have dropped my locket, Mr. Ford; is it near you? I cannot find it."</p> + +<p>"Is it one you prize very much?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"I should not like to lose it," she replied, and her face paled as +searching in the long grass she saw nothing of it.</p> + +<p>I found it in a few minutes, but it was lying open; the fall had +loosened the spring. I could not help seeing the contents as I gave it +to her—a round ring of pale golden hair.</p> + +<p>"A baby's curl?" I said, as I returned it to her.</p> + +<p>Her whole face went blood-red in one minute.</p> + +<p>"The only thing I have belonging to my little sister," she said. "She +died when I was a child."</p> + +<p>"You must prize it," I said; but I could not keep the dryness of +suspicion from my voice.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Fleming," I asked, suddenly, "are you like Lance and myself, +without relations?"</p> + +<p>"Almost," she replied, briefly.</p> + +<p>"Strange that three people should be almost alone in the world but for +each other!" I said.</p> + +<p>"I was left an orphan when I was four years old," she said. "Only Heaven +knows how I have cried out upon my parents for leaving me. I never had +one happy hour. Can you imagine a whole childhood passed without one +happy hour?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly," I said.</p> + +<p>With white, nervous fingers she fastened the gold chain round her neck +again.</p> + +<p>"Not one happy hour," she said. "I was left under the care of my +grandmother, a proud, cold, cruel woman, who never said a kind word to +me, and who grudged me every slice of bread and butter I ate."</p> + +<p>She looked at me, still holding the golden locket in her white fingers.</p> + +<p>"If I had been like other girls," she said "if I had parents to love me, +brothers and sisters, friends or relatives, I should have been +different. Believe me, Mr. Ford, there are white slaves in England whose +slavery is worse than that of an African child. I was one of them. I +think of my youth with a sick shudder; I think of my childhood with +horror, and I almost thank Heaven that the tyrant is dead who blighted +my life."</p> + +<p>Now the real woman was breaking through the mask; her face flushed; her +eyes shone.</p> + +<p>"I often talk to Lance about it," she said, "this terrible childhood of +mine. I was punished for the least offence. I never heard a word of pity +or affection. I never saw a look of anything but hate on my +grandmother's face. No one was ever pitiful to me; fierce words, fierce +blows, complaints of the burden I was; that was all my mother's mother +ever gave to me. I need not say that I hated her, and learned to loathe +the life I fain would have laid down. Do I tire you, Mr. Ford?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, I am deeply interested," I replied.</p> + +<p>She went on:</p> + +<p>"My grandmother was not poor; she was greedy. She had a good income +which died with her, and she strongly objected to spend it on me. She +paid for my education on the condition that when I could get my own +living by teaching I should repay her. Thank Heaven, I did so!"</p> + +<p>"Then you were a governess?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I began to get my own living at fifteen. I was tall for my age, +and quite capable," she said; "but fifteen is very young, Mr. Ford, for +a girl to be thrown on to the world."</p> + +<p>"You must have been a very beautiful girl," I said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, so much the worse for me." She seemed to repent of the words as +soon as they were uttered.</p> + +<p>"I mean," she added, quickly, "that my grandmother hated me the more for +it."</p> + +<p>There was silence between us for some minutes, then she added:</p> + +<p>"You may imagine, after such an unloved life, how I love Lance."</p> + +<p>"He is the best fellow in the world," I said, "and the woman who could +deceive him ought to be shot."</p> + +<p>"What woman would deceive him?" she asked. "Indeed, for matter of that, +what woman could? I am his wife!"</p> + +<p>"It happens very often," I said, trying to speak carelessly, "that good +and loyal men like Lance are the most easily deceived."</p> + +<p>"It should not be so," she said. She was startled again, I saw it in her +face.</p> + +<p>That same afternoon we drove into Vale Royal. Mrs. Fleming had several +poor people whom she wished to see, and some shopping to do.</p> + +<p>"You should take your locket to a jeweler's," I said, "and have the +spring secured."</p> + +<p>"What locket is that?" asked Lance, looking up eagerly from his paper.</p> + +<p>"Mine," she replied—"this." She held it out for his inspection. "I +nearly lost it this morning," she said; "it fell from my neck."</p> + +<p>"Is it the one that holds your sister's hair?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, opening it and holding it out for him to see.</p> + +<p>What nerve she had, if this was what I imagined, the hair of the little +dead child. Loving Lance rose from his chair and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"You would not like to lose that, my darling, would you?" he said, +"Excepting me, that is all you have in the world."</p> + +<p>They seemed to forget all about me; she clung to him, and he kissed her +face until I thought he would never give over.</p> + +<p>"How lovely you were when I found you, Frances," he said. "Do you +remember the evening—you were bending over the crysanthemums?"</p> + +<p>"I shall forget my own life and my own soul before I forget that," she +replied.</p> + +<p>And I said to myself: "Even if my suspicion be perfectly true, have I +any right to mar such love as that?" I noticed that during all the +conversation about the locket, she never once looked at me.</p> + +<p>We went to Vale Royal, and there never was man so bewildered as I. Lance +proposed that we should go visiting with Mrs. Fleming.</p> + +<p>"Get your purse ready, John," he said—"this visit will require a small +fortune."</p> + +<p>"I find the poor value kind words as much as money," said the beautiful +woman.</p> + +<p>"Then they must be very disinterested," he said, laughingly—"I should +prefer money."</p> + +<p>"You are only jesting," she said.</p> + +<p>It was a pretty sight to see her go into those poor, little, dirty +houses. There was no pride, no patronage, no condescension—she was +simply sweetly natural; she listened to their complaints, gave them +comfort and relieved their wants. As I watched her I could not help +thinking to myself that if I were a fashionable or titled lady, this +would be my favorite relaxation—visiting and relieving the poor. I +never saw so much happiness purchased by a few pounds. We came to a +little cottage that stood by itself in a garden.</p> + +<p>"Are you growing tired?" she asked of her husband.</p> + +<p>"I never tire with you," he replied.</p> + +<p>"And you, Mr. Ford?" she said.</p> + +<p>She never overlooked or forgot me, but studied my comfort on every +occasion. I could have told her that I was watching what was to me a +perfect problem—the kindly, gentle, pitying deeds of a woman, who had, +I believed, murdered her own child.</p> + +<p>"I am not tired, Mrs. Fleming, I am interested," I said.</p> + +<p>The little cottage which stood in the midst of a wild patch of garden +was inhabited by a day-laborer. He was away at work; his wife sat at +home nursing a little babe, a small, fair, tiny child, evidently not +more than three weeks old, dying, too, if one could judge from the face.</p> + +<p>She bent over it—the beautiful, graceful woman who was Lance's wife. +Ah, Heaven! the change that came over her, the passion of mother love +that came into her face; she was transformed.</p> + +<p>"Let me hold the little one for you," she said, "while you rest for a +few minutes;" and the poor, young mother gratefully accepted the offer.</p> + +<p>What a picture she made in the gloomy room of the little cottage, her +beautiful face and shining hair, her dress sweeping the ground, and the +tiny child lying in her arms.</p> + +<p>"Does it suffer much?" she asked, in her sweet, compassionate voice.</p> + +<p>"It did, ma'am," replied the mother, "but I have given it something to +keep it quiet."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that you have drugged it?" asked Mrs. Fleming.</p> + +<p>"Only a little cordial, ma'am, nothing more; it keeps it sleeping; and +when it sleeps it does not suffer."</p> + +<p>She shook her beautiful head.</p> + +<p>"It is a bad practice," she said; "more babes are killed by drugs than +die a natural death."</p> + +<p>I was determined she should look at me; I stepped forward and touched +the child's face.</p> + +<p>"Do you not think it is merciful at times to give a child like this +drugs when it has to die; to lessen the pain of death—to keep it from +crying out?"</p> + +<p>Ah, me, that startled fear that leaped into her eyes, the sudden quiver +on the beautiful face.</p> + +<p>"I do not know," she said; "I do not understand such things."</p> + +<p>"What can it matter," I said, "whether a little child like this dies +conscious or not? It cannot pray—it must go straight to Heaven! Do you +not think anyone who loved it, and had to see it die, would think it +greatest kindness to drug it?"</p> + +<p>My eyes held hers; I would not lose their glance; she could not take +them away. I saw the fear leap into them, then die away; she was saying +to herself, what could I know?</p> + +<p>But I knew. I remembered what the doctor said in Brighton when the +inquest was held on the tiny white body, "that it had been mercifully +drugged before it was drowned."</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell," she replied, with a gentle shake of the head. "I only +know that unfortunately the poor people use these kind of cordials too +readily. I should not like to decide whether in a case like this it is +true kindness or not."</p> + +<p>"What a pretty child, Mr. Ford; what a pity that it must die!"</p> + +<p>Could it be that she who bent with such loving care over this little +stranger, who touched its tiny face with her delicate lips, who held it +cradled in her soft arms, was the same desperate woman who had thrown +her child into the sea?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX" />CHAPTER IX.</h3> + + +<p>Mrs. Fleming was not at her ease with me. I found her several times +watching me with a curious, intent gaze, seeking, as it were, to pierce +my thoughts, to dive into my motives, but always puzzled—even as I was +puzzled over her. That round of visiting made me more loath than ever to +believe that I was right. Such gentle thought and care, such +consideration, such real charity, I had never seen before. I was not +surprised when Lance told me that she was considered quite an angel by +the poor. I fell ill with anxiety. I never knew what to say or think.</p> + +<p>I did what many others in dire perplexity do, I went to one older, wiser +and better than myself, a white-haired old minister, whom I had known +for many years, and in whom I had implicit trust. I mentioned no names, +but I told him the story.</p> + +<p>He was a kind-hearted, compassionate man, but he decided that the +husband should be told.</p> + +<p>Such a woman, he said, must have unnatural qualities; could not possibly +be one fitted for any man to trust. She might be insane. She might be +subject to mania—a thousand things might occur which made it, he +thought, quite imperative that such a secret should not be withheld from +her husband.</p> + +<p>Others had had a share in it, and there was no doubt but that it would +eventually become known; better hear it from the lips of a friend than +from the lips of a foe.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," he advised, "it might be as well for you to speak to her +first; it would give her a fair chance."</p> + +<p>If it were not true, she could deny it, although if she proved to be +innocent, and I had made a mistake, I deserved what I should no doubt +get; if she were guilty and owned it, she would have some warning at +least. That seemed to me the best plan, if I could speak to her; break +it to her in some way or other.</p> + +<p>A few more days passed. If any doubt was left in my mind, what happened +one morning at breakfast would have satisfied me. Lance had taken up the +paper. I was reading some letters, and Mrs. Fleming making tea.</p> + +<p>Lance looked suddenly from his paper.</p> + +<p>"I used to think drink was the greatest curse in England," he said.</p> + +<p>"Have you changed your opinion?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"I have. I think now the crying sin of the country is child-murder."</p> + +<p>As he uttered the words his wife was just in the act of pouring some +cream into my cup; it did not surprise me that the pretty silver jug and +the cream all fell together. Lance laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>"Why, Frances," he cried; "I have never seen you do such a clumsy thing +before."</p> + +<p>She was deadly pale, her hand shaking.</p> + +<p>"I have frightened myself," she said, "and no wonder with such a noise."</p> + +<p>A servant came, who made everything right.</p> + +<p>Then Lance continued, "You interrupted me, Frances. I was just saying +that child-murder is one of the greatest blots on the civilization of +the present day."</p> + +<p>"It is such a horrible thing to speak of," she said, feebly.</p> + +<p>"It wants some speaking about," said Lance. "I never take up a paper +without reading one or two cases. I wonder that the Government does not +take it up and issue some decree or other. It is a blot on the face of +the land."</p> + +<p>"I do not suppose that any decree of Government would change it," I +said; "the evil lies too deeply for that; the law should be made equal; +as it is, the whole blame, shame and punishment fall on the woman, while +the man goes free; there will be no change for the better while that is +the case. I have not patience to think of the irregularity of the law."</p> + +<p>"You are right, John," said my old friend. "Still, cruelty in a woman is +so horrible, and the woman must be as cruel as a demon who deserts or +slays her own child. If I had my own way, I would hang every one who +does it; there would soon be an end of it then."</p> + +<p>There was a low startled cry, and the paper fell to the ground. Mrs. +Fleming rose from her chair with a ghastly face.</p> + +<p>"Frances!" cried her husband, "what is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"You will talk of such horrible things," she replied, vehemently, "and +you know that I cannot bear them."</p> + +<p>"Sweetheart," he whispered, as he kissed her, "I will be more careful. I +know a sensitive heart like yours cannot bear the knowledge of such +things. You must forgive me, Frances, but to me there is something far +more loathing in the woman who kills a child than in the woman who slays +a man. Do not look so pale and grieved, my darling! John, we must be +more careful what we say."</p> + +<p>"I must beg you to remember that you began the subject, Lance."</p> + +<p>"I am ashamed of making such a fuss," she continued, "but there are some +subjects too horrible even to dwell upon or speak of, and that is one. I +am going into the garden, Lance; perhaps you and Mr. Ford would like +your cigars there? I am going to prune a favorite rose tree that is +growing wild."</p> + +<p>"Do you understand pruning, Mrs. Fleming?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Such small things as rose trees," she said.</p> + +<p>"We will follow you, Frances," said her husband. "My case is empty; I +must get some more cigars."</p> + +<p>I fancied that she was unwilling to leave us together. She lingered a +few minutes, then went out. Then simple, honest Lance turned to me with +his face full of animation.</p> + +<p>"John, did you ever see such a tender-hearted woman in all your life? +She is almost too sensitive."</p> + +<p>My suspicions were certainties now, and my mind was more than ever +tossed and whirled in tortured doubt and dread. I shall never forget one +evening that came soon afterwards. We went to dine with a friend of +Lance's, a Squire Peyton, who lived not far away, and he was the +possessor of some very fine pictures, of which he was very proud. He +took us through his pretty arranged gallery.</p> + +<p>"This is my last purchase," he said.</p> + +<p>We all three stopped to look at a large square picture representing the +mother of the little Moses placing his cradle of rushes amongst the tall +reeds in the water.</p> + +<p>I saw Mrs. Fleming look at it with eyes that were wet with tears.</p> + +<p>"Does it sadden you?" asked Lance. "It need not; the little one looks +young and tender to be left alone, but the water is silent and the +mother is near. She never left him. What a pretty story of mother-love +it is."</p> + +<p>The beautiful face paled, the lips trembled slightly.</p> + +<p>"It is a beautiful picture," she said, "to come from that land of +darkness; it makes something of the poetry of the Nile."</p> + +<p>Watching her, I said to myself, "That woman has not deadened her +conscience; she has tried and failed. There is more good than evil in +her."</p> + +<p>All night long there sounded in my ears those words, "A life for a +life!" And I wondered what would, what could, be the punishment of a +mother who took the life of her own child?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X" />CHAPTER X.</h3> + + +<p>This state of things could not last. A shade of fear or mistrust came in +her manner to me. I must repeat, even at the risk of being wearisome, +that I think no man was ever in such a painful position. Had it not been +for my fore-knowledge, I should have loved Mrs. Fleming for her beauty, +her goodness and her devotion to my dear old friend. I could not bear to +tell him the truth, nor could I bear that he should be so basely and +terribly deceived—that he should be living with and loving one whom I +knew to be a murderess. So I waited for an opportunity of appealing to +herself, and it came sooner than I had expected.</p> + +<p>One afternoon Lance had to leave us on business; he said he might be +absent some few hours—he was going to Vale Royal. He asked me if I +would take Mrs. Fleming out; she had complained of headache, and he +thought a walk down by the river might be good for her. I promised to do +so, and then I knew the time for speaking to her had come.</p> + +<p>I cannot tell how it was that our walk was delayed until the gloaming, +and then we went at once to the river, for no other reason that I can +see, except that Lance had wished us to go there.</p> + +<p>But to my dying day I can never forget the scene. The sky was roseate +with crimson clouds, and golden with gold; the river ran swiftly, +brimming full to the banks; the glow of the sunlight lay on the hills +around, on the green fields, on the distant woods, on the bank where we +stood, on the tall, noble trees, on the wild flowers and blossoms. +Better almost than anything else I remember a great patch of scarlet +poppies that grew in the long green grass; even now, although this took +place a long time ago, the sight of crimson poppy makes my heart ache. +The withered trunk of a fallen tree lay across the river's bank; one end +of it was washed by the stream. Mrs. Fleming sat down upon it and the +scarlet poppies were at her feet.</p> + +<p>"We can see nothing so pretty as the sunset over the river, Mr. Ford," +she said; "let us watch it."</p> + +<p>We sat for some few minutes in silence; the rosy glow from the sky and +the river seemed to fall on her face as she turned it to the water.</p> + +<p>The time had come; I knew that, yet only Heaven knows how I shrank from +the task! I would rather have died, yet my sense of justice urged me on. +Was it fair that Lance Fleming should lavish the whole love of his life +on a murderess?</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking so intently about, Mr. Ford?" she asked me.</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell you?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, by all means," she replied. "I am sure the subject is very grave, +you look so unhappy."</p> + +<p>Now the time was come! That beautiful face would never look into mine +again. I steeled my heart by thinking of the tiny baby face I had seen +on the wooden bench of the pier—so like hers—the little drowned face!</p> + +<p>"I will tell you of what I am thinking, Mrs. Fleming," I said; "but I +must tell it to you as a story."</p> + +<p>"Do," she said, in a gentle voice, and she gathered the scarlet poppies +as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"There were two friends once upon a time," I began, "who loved each +other with a love deeper and truer than the love of brothers."</p> + +<p>She nodded her head with a charming smile; I saw an expression of great +relief pass over her face.</p> + +<p>"I understand," she said; "as you and Lance love each other, there is +something most beautiful in the love of men."</p> + +<p>"These two spent much time together; their interests were identical, +they shared at that time the same hopes and fears. They were parted for +a time, one was busy with his own affairs, the other, an invalid, went +to Brighton for his health."</p> + +<p>How the smile died away; the sun did not set more surely or more slowly +than that sweet smile of interest died from her lips, but no fear +replaced it at first.</p> + +<p>"The friend who was an invalid went to Brighton, as I have said, for his +health, and either fate or Providence took him one night to the Chain +Pier."</p> + +<p>I did not look at her; I dared not. My eyes wandered over the running +river, where the crimson clouds were reflected like blood; but I heard a +gasping sound as of breath hardly drawn. I went on:</p> + +<p>"The Chain Pier that evening lay in the midst of soft, thick gloom; +there was no sound on it save the low washing of the waves and the +shrill voice of the wind as it played amongst the wooden piles. He sat +silent, absorbed in thought, when suddenly a woman came down the pier—a +tall, beautiful woman, who walked to the end and stood leaning there."</p> + +<p>I saw the scarlet poppies fall from the nerveless hands on the green +grass, but the figure by my side seemed to have suddenly turned to +stone. I dare not look at her. The scene was far greater agony to me, I +almost believe, than to her. I went on:</p> + +<p>"The woman stood there for some short time in silence; then she became +restless, and looked all around to see if anyone were near.</p> + +<p>"Then she walked to the side of the pier. She did not see the dark form +in the corner; she raised something in her arms and dropped it into the +sea."</p> + +<p>There was a sound, but it was like nothing human—it was neither sigh +nor moan, but more pitiful than either; the poppies lay still on the +grass, and a great hush seemed to have fallen over the river.</p> + +<p>"Into the sea," I repeated, "and the man, as it fell, saw a shawl of +black and gray."</p> + +<p>She tried to spring up, and I knew that her impulse was to rush to the +river. I held her arms, and she remained motionless; the very air around +us seemed to beat with passionate pulse of pain.</p> + +<p>"There was a faint splash in the water," I went on; "it was all over in +less than a second, and then the swift waves rolled on as before. The +woman stood motionless. When she turned to leave the spot the moon shone +full on her face—ghastly, desperate and beautiful—he saw it as +plainly as I see the river here. He heard her as plainly as I hear the +river here. She cried aloud as she went away, 'Oh, my God, if I dare—if +I dare!' Can you tell what happened? Listen how wonderful are the ways +of God, who hates murder and punishes it. She flung the burden into the +sea, feeling sure it would sink; but it caught—the black and gray shawl +caught—on some hooks that had been driven into the outer woodwork of +the pier; it caught and hung there, the shawl moving to and fro with +every breath of wind and every wave."</p> + +<p>Without a word or a cry she fell with her face in the grass. Oh, Heaven, +be pitiful to all who are stricken and guilty! I went on quickly:</p> + +<p>"A boatman found it, and the bundle contained a little drowned child—a +fair waxen babe, beautiful even though it had lain in the salt, bitter +waters of the green sea all night. Now comes the horror, Mrs. Fleming. +When the man, who saw the scene went after some years to visit the +friend whom he loved so dearly, he recognized in that friend's wife the +woman who threw the child into the sea!"</p> + +<p>Again came the sound that was like nothing human.</p> + +<p>"What was that man to do?" I asked. "He could not be silent; the friend +who loved and trusted him must have been most basely deceived—he could +not hide a murder; yet the woman was so lovely, so lovable; she was +seemingly so good, so charitable, so devoted to her husband, that he was +puzzled, tortured; at last he resolved upon telling her. I have told +you."</p> + +<p>Then silence, deep and awful, fell over us; it lasted until I saw that I +must break it. She lay motionless on the ground, her face buried in the +grass.</p> + +<p>"What should you have done in that man's place, Mrs. Fleming?" I asked.</p> + +<p>Then she raised her face; it was whiter, more despairing, more ghastly +than I had seen it on the pier.</p> + +<p>"I knew it must come," she wailed. "Oh, Heaven, how often have I dreaded +this—I knew from the first."</p> + +<p>"Then it was you?" I said.</p> + +<p>"It was me," she replied. "I need not try to hide it any longer, why +should I? Every leaf on every tree, every raindrop that has fallen, +every wind that has whispered has told it aloud ever since. If I hide it +from you someone else will start up and tell. If I deny it, then the +very stones in the street will cry it out. Yes, it was me—wretched, +miserable me—the most miserable, the most guilty woman alive—it was +me."</p> + +<p>My heart went out to her in fullness of pity—poor, unhappy woman! +sobbing her heart out; weeping, as surely no one ever wept before. I +wished that Heaven had made anyone else her judge than me. Then she sat +up facing me, and I wondered what the judge must think when the sentence +of death passes his lips. I knew that this was the sentence of death for +this woman.</p> + +<p>"You never knew what passed after, did you?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"No—not at all," was the half sullen reply—"not at all."</p> + +<p>"Did you never purchase a Brighton paper, or look into a London paper to +see?"</p> + +<p>"No," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Then I will tell you," I said, and I told her all that had passed. How +the people had stood round the little baby, and the men cursed the cruel +hands that had drowned the little babe.</p> + +<p>"Did they curse my hands?" she asked, and I saw her looking at them in +wonder.</p> + +<p>"Yes; the men said hard words, but the women were pitiful and kind; one +kissed the little face, dried it, and kissed it with tears in her eyes. +Was it your own child?"</p> + +<p>There was a long pause, a long silence, a terrible few minutes, and then +she answered:</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was my child!"</p> + +<p>Her voice was full of despair; she folded her hands and laid them on her +lap.</p> + +<p>"I knew it must come," she said. "Now, let me try to think what I must +do. I meet now that which I have dreaded so long. Oh, Lance! my love, +Lance! my love, Lance! You will not tell him?" she cried, turning to me +with impassioned appeal. "You will not!—you could not break his heart +and mine!—you could not kill me! Oh, for Heaven's sake, say you will +not tell him?"</p> + +<p>Then I found her on her knees at my feet, sobbing passionate cries—I +must not tell him, it would kill him, She must go away, if I said she +must; she would go from the heart and the home where she had nestled in +safety so long; she would die; she would do anything, if only I would +not tell him. He had loved and trusted her so—she loved him so dearly. +I must not tell. If I liked, she would go to the river and throw herself +in. She would give her life freely, gladly—if only I would not tell +him.</p> + +<p>So I sat holding, as it were, the passionate, aching heart in my hand.</p> + +<p>"You must calm yourself," I said. "Let us talk reasonably. We cannot +talk while you are like this."</p> + +<p>She beat her white hands together, and I could not still her cries; they +were all for "Lance!"—"her love, Lance!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI" />CHAPTER XI.</h3> + + +<p>"You must listen to me," I said; "I want you to see how truly this is +the work of Providence, and not of mere chance."</p> + +<p>I told her how I often had been attracted to the pier; I told her all +that was said by the crowd around; of the man who carried the little +dead child to the work-house; of the tiny little body that lay in its +white dress in the bare, large, desolate room, and of the flowers that +the kindly matron had covered it with.</p> + +<p>I told her how I had taken compassion on the forlorn little creature, +had purchased its grave, and of the white stone with "Marah" upon it.</p> + +<p>"Marah, found drowned." And then, poor soul—poor, hapless soul, she +clung to my hands and covered them with kisses and tears.</p> + +<p>"Did you—did you do that?" she moaned. "How good you are, but you will +not tell him. I was mad when I did that, mad as women often are, with +sorrow, shame and despair. I will suffer anything if you will only +promise not to tell Lance."</p> + +<p>"Do you think it is fair," I asked, "that he should be so cruelly +deceived?—that he should lavish the whole love of his heart upon a +murderess?"</p> + +<p>I shall not forget her. She sprang from the ground where she had been +kneeling and stood erect before me.</p> + +<p>"No, thank Heaven! I am not that," she said; "I am everything else that +is base and vile, but not that."</p> + +<p>"You were that, indeed," I replied. "The child you flung into the sea +was living, not dead."</p> + +<p>"It was not living," she cried—"it was dead an hour before I reached +there."</p> + +<p>"The doctors said—for there was an inquest on the tiny body—they said +the child had been drugged before it was drowned, but that it had died +from drowning."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, a thousand times!" she cried. "Oh, believe me, I did not +wilfully murder my own child—I did not, indeed! Let me tell you. You +are a just and merciful man, John Ford; let me tell you—you must hear +my story; you shall give me my sentence—I will leave it in your hands. +I will tell you all."</p> + +<p>"You had better tell Lance, not me," I cried. "What can I do?"</p> + +<p>"No; you listen; you judge. It may be that when you have heard all, you +will take pity on me; you may spare me—you may say to yourself that I +have been more sinned against than sinning—you may think that I have +suffered enough, and that I may live out the rest of my life with Lance. +Let me tell you, and you shall judge me."</p> + +<p>She fell over on her knees again, rocking backwards and forwards.</p> + +<p>"Ah, why," she cried—"why is the world so unfair?—why, when there is +sin and sorrow, why does the punishment fall all on the woman, and the +man go free? I am here in disgrace and humiliation, in shame and +sorrow—in fear of losing my home, my husband, it may even be my +life—while he, who was a thousand times more guilty than I was, is +welcomed, flattered, courted! It is cruel and unjust.</p> + +<p>"I have told you," she said, "how hard my childhood was, how lonely and +desolate and miserable I was with my girl's heart full of love and no +one to love.</p> + +<p>"When I was eighteen I went to live with a very wealthy family in +London, the name—I will not hide one detail from you—the name was +Cleveland; they had one little girl, and I was her governess. I went +with them to their place in the country, and there a visitor came to +them, a handsome young nobleman, Lord Dacius by name.</p> + +<p>"It was a beautiful sunlit county. I had little to do, plenty of +leisure, and he could do as he would with his time. We had met and had +fallen in love with each other. I did not love him, I idolized him; +remember in your judgment that no one had ever loved me. No one had ever +kissed my face and said kind words to me; and I, oh! wretched, miserable +me, I was in Heaven. To be loved for the first time, and by one so +handsome, so charming, so fascinating! A few weeks passed like a dream. +I met him in the early morning, I met him in the gloaming. He swore a +hundred times each day that he would marry me when he came of age. We +must wait until then. I never dreamed of harm or wrong, I believed in +him implicitly, as I loved him. I believe every word that came from his +lips. May Heaven spare me! I need tell you no more. A girl of eighteen +madly, passionately in love; a girl as ignorant as any girl could be, +and a handsome, experienced man of the world.</p> + +<p>"There was no hope, no chance. I fell; yet almost without knowing how I +had fallen. You will spare me the rest, I know.</p> + +<p>"When in my sore anguish and distress, I went to him, I thought he would +marry me at once; I thought he would be longing only to make me happy +again; to comfort me; to solace me; to make amends for all I had +suffered. I went to him in London with my heart full of longing and +love. I had left my situation, and my stern, cruel grandmother believed +that I had found another. If I lived to be a thousand years old I should +never forget my horror and surprise. He had worshipped me; he had sworn +a thousand times over that he would marry me; he had loved me with the +tenderest love.</p> + +<p>"Now, when after waiting some hours, I saw him last, he frowned at me; +there was no kiss, no caress, no welcome.</p> + +<p>"'This is a nice piece of news,' he said. 'This comes of country +visiting.'</p> + +<p>"'But you love me?—you love me?' I cried.</p> + +<p>"'I did, my dear,' he said, 'but, of course, that died with Summer. One +does not speak of what is dead.'</p> + +<p>"'Do you not mean to marry me?' I asked.</p> + +<p>"'No, certainly not; and you know that I never did. It was a Summer's +amusement.'</p> + +<p>"'And what is it to me?' I asked.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, you must make the best of it. Of course, I will not see you want, +but you must not annoy me. And that old grandmother of yours, she must +not be let loose upon me. You must do the best you can. I will give you +a hundred pounds if you will promise not to come near me again.'</p> + +<p>"I spoke no word to him; I did not reproach him; I did not utter his +name; I did not say good-bye to him; I walked away. I leave his +punishment to Heaven. Then I crushed the anguish within me and tried to +look my life in the face. I would have killed myself rather than have +gone home. My grandmother had forced me to be saving, and in the +postoffice bank I had nearly thirty pounds. I had a watch and chain +worth ten. I sold them, and I sold with them a small diamond ring that +had been my mother's, and some other jewelry; altogether I realized +fifty pounds. I went to the outskirts of London and took two small +rooms.</p> + +<p>"I remember that I made no effort to hide my disgrace; I did not pretend +to be married or to be a widow, and the mistress of the house was not +unkind to me. She liked me all the better for telling the truth. I say +no word to you of my mental anguish—no words can describe it, but I +loved the little one. She was only three weeks old when a letter was +forwarded to me at the address I had given in London, saying that my +grandmother was ill and wished me to go home at once. What was I to do +with the baby? I can remember how the great drops of anguish stood on +my face, how my hands trembled, how my very heart went cold with dread.</p> + +<p>"The newspapers which I took daily, to read the advertisements for +governesses, lay upon the table, and my eyes were caught by an +advertisement from some woman living at Brighton, who undertook the +bringing up of children. I resolved to go down that very day. I said +nothing to my landlady of my intention. I merely told her that I was +going to place the little one in very good hands, and that I would +return for my luggage.</p> + +<p>"I meant—so truly as Heaven hears me speak—I meant to do right by the +little child. I meant to work hard to keep her in a nice home. Oh, I +meant well!</p> + +<p>"I was ashamed to go out in the streets with a little baby in my arms.</p> + +<p>"'What shall I do if it cries?' I asked the kindly landlady. 'You can +prevent it from crying,' she said; 'give it some cordial.' 'What +cordial?' I asked, and she told me. 'Will it hurt the little one?' I +asked again, and she laughed.</p> + +<p>"'No,' she replied, 'certainly not. Half the mothers in London give it +to their children. It sends them into a sound sleep, and they wake up +none the worse for it. If you give the baby just a little it will sleep +all the way to Brighton, and you will have no trouble.' I must say this +much for myself, that I knew nothing whatever of children, that is, of +such little children. I had never been where there was a baby so little +as my own.</p> + +<p>"I bought the cordial, and just before I started gave the baby some. I +thought that I was very careful. I meant to be so. I would not for the +whole world have given my baby one half-drop too much.</p> + +<p>"It soon slept a calm, placid sleep, and I noticed that the little face +grew paler. 'Your baby is dying,' said a woman, who was traveling in the +third-class carriage with me. 'It is dying, I am sure.' I laughed and +cried; it was so utterly impossible, I thought; it was well and smiling +only one hour ago. I never remembered the cordial. Afterwards, when I +came to make inquiries, I found that I had given her too much. I need +not linger on details.</p> + +<p>"You see, that if my little one died by my fault, it was most +unconscious on my part; it was most innocently, most ignorantly done. I +make no excuse. I tell you the plain truth as it stands. I caused my +baby's death, but it was most innocently done; I would have given my own +life to have brought hers back. You, my judge, can you imagine any fate +more terrible than standing quite alone on the Brighton platform with a +dead child in my arms?</p> + +<p>"I had very little money. I knew no soul in the place. I had no more +idea what to do with a dead child than a baby would have had. I call it +dead," she continued, "for I believe it to have been dead, no matter +what any doctor says. It was cold—oh, my Heaven, how cold!—lifeless; +no breath passed the little lips! the eyes were closed—the pretty hand +stiff. I believed it dead. I wandered down to the beach and sat down on +the stones.</p> + +<p>"What was I to do with this sweet, cold body? I cried until I was almost +blind; in the whole wide world there was no one so utterly desolate and +wretched. I cried aloud to Heaven to help me—where should I bury my +little child? I cannot tell how the idea first occurred to me. The waves +came in with a soft, murmuring melody, a sweet, silvery hush, and I +thought the deep, green sea would make a grave for my little one. It was +mad and wicked I know now; I can see how horrible it was; it did not +seem to be so then. I only thought of the sea then as my best friend, +the place where I was to hide the beloved little body, the clear, green +grave where she was to sleep until the Judgment Day. I waited until—it +is a horrible thing to tell you! but I fell asleep—fast asleep, and of +all the horrors in my story, the worst part is that, sitting by the sea, +fast asleep myself, with my little, dead babe on my knee.</p> + +<p>"When I awoke the tide was coming in full and soft, and swift-running +waves, the sun had set, and a thick, soft gloom had fallen over +everything, and then I knew the time had come for what I wanted to do."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII" />CHAPTER XII.</h3> + + +<p>"I went on to the Chain Pier. I had kissed the little face for the last +time; I had wrapped the pretty white body in the black-and-gray shawl. I +said all the prayers I could remember as I walked along the pier; it was +the most solemn of burial services to me.</p> + +<p>"I went to the side of the pier—I cannot understand how it was that I +did not see you—I stood there some few minutes, and then I took the +little bundle; I raised it gently and let it fall into the sea. But my +baby was dead—I swear to that. Oh, Heaven! if I dared—if I dared fling +myself in the same green, briny waves!</p> + +<p>"I was mad with anguish. I went back to my lodging; the landlady asked +me if I had left the baby in Brighton, and I answered 'Yes.' I do not +know how the days went on—I could not tell you; I was never myself, nor +do I remember much until some weeks afterward I went home to my +grandmother, who died soon after I reached her. I need not tell you that +afterwards I met Lance, and learned to love him with all my heart.</p> + +<p>"Do not tell him; promise me, I beseech you, for mercy's sake, do not +tell him!"</p> + +<p>"What you have told me," I said, "certainly gives a different aspect to +the whole affair. I will make no promise—I will think it over. I must +have time to decide what is best."</p> + +<p>"You will spare me," she went on. "You see I did no one any harm, wrong +or injury. If I hurt another, then you might deprive me of my husband +and my home; as it is, Lance loves me and I love him. You will not tell +him?"</p> + +<p>"I will think about it," I replied.</p> + +<p>"But I cannot live in this suspense," she cried. "If you will tell him, +tell him this day, this hour."</p> + +<p>"He might forgive you," I said.</p> + +<p>"No, he would not be angry, he would not reproach me, but he would never +look upon my face again."</p> + +<p>"Would it not be better for you to tell him yourself?" I suggested.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" she cried, with a shudder. "No, I shall never tell him."</p> + +<p>"I do not say that I shall," I said. "Give me a few days—only a few +days—and I will decide in my mind all about it."</p> + +<p>Then we saw Lance in the distance.</p> + +<p>"There is my husband," she said. "Do I look very ill, Mr. Ford?"</p> + +<p>"You do, indeed; you look ghastly," I said.</p> + +<p>"I will go and meet him," she said.</p> + +<p>The exercise and the fresh air brought some little color to her face +before they met. Still he cried out that I had not taken care of her; +that she was overtired.</p> + +<p>"That is it," she replied. "I have been over-tired all day: I think my +head aches; I have had a strange sensation of dizziness in it, I am +tired—oh, Lance, I am so tired!"</p> + +<p>"I shall not leave you again," said Lance to her, and I fancied he was +not quite pleased with me, and thought I had neglected her. We all three +went home together. Mrs. Fleming did not say much, but she kept up +better than I thought she could have done. I heard her that same evening +express a wish to be driven to Vale Royal on the day following; a young +girl, whom she had been instrumental in saving from ruin, had been +suddenly taken ill, and wanted to see her.</p> + +<p>"My darling," Lance said, "you do not seem to me strong enough. Let me +persuade you to rest tomorrow."</p> + +<p>"I should like to see Rose Winter again before—before I"—then she +stopped abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Before you—what, Frances?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I mean," she said, "that I should like to see Rose before she grows +worse."</p> + +<p>"I think you ought to rest, but you shall do as you like, Frances; you +always do. I will drive you over myself."</p> + +<p>I saw them start on the following morning, and then I tried to think +over in solitude what it would be best to do. Her story certainly +altered facts very considerably. She was not a murderess, as I had +believed her to be. If the death of the little hapless child was +attributable to an overdose of the cordial, she had certainly not given +it purposely. Could I judge her?</p> + +<p>Yet, an honest, loyal man like Lance ought not to be so cruelly +deceived. I felt sure myself that if she spoke to him—if she told him +her story with the same pathos with which she had told it to me, he +would forgive her—he must forgive her. I could not reconcile it with my +conscience to keep silence, I could not, and I believed that the truth +might be told with safety. So, after long thinking and deliberation, I +came to the conclusion that Lance must know, and that she must tell him +herself.</p> + +<p>It was in the middle of a bright, sunshiny afternoon when they returned. +When Lance brought his wife into the drawing-room he seemed very anxious +over her.</p> + +<p>"Frances does not seem well," he said to me. "Ring the bell, John, and +order some hot tea; she is as cold as death."</p> + +<p>Her eyes met mine, and in them I read the question—"What are you going +to do?" I was struck by her dreadful pallor.</p> + +<p>"Is your head bad again today?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it aches very much," she replied.</p> + +<p>The hot tea came, and it seemed to revive her; but after a few minutes +the dreadful shivering came over her again. She stood up.</p> + +<p>"Lance," she said, "I will go to my room, and you must lead me; my head +aches so that I am blind."</p> + +<p>She left her pretty drawing-room, never to re-enter it. The next day at +noon Lance came to me with a sad face.</p> + +<p>"John, my wife is very ill, and I have just heard bad news."</p> + +<p>"What is it, Lance?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Why, that the girl she went yesterday to see, Rose Winter, is ill with +the most malignant type of small-pox."</p> + +<p>I looked at him in horror.</p> + +<p>"Do you think," I gasped, "that the—that Mrs. Fleming has caught it?"</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure," he replied. "I have just sent for the doctor, and +have telegraphed to the hospital for two nurses. And my old friend," he +added, "I am afraid it is going to be a bad case."</p> + +<p>It was a bad case. I never left him while the suspense lasted; but it +was soon over. She suffered intensely, for the disease was of the most +virulent type. It was soon over. Lance came to me one afternoon, and I +read the verdict in his face.</p> + +<p>"She will die," he said, hoarsely. "They cannot save her," and the day +after that he came to me again with wistful eyes.</p> + +<p>"John," he said, slowly, "my wife is dying, and she wants to see you. +Will you see her?"</p> + +<p>"Most certainly," I replied.</p> + +<p>She smiled when she saw me, and beckoned me to her. Ah, poor soul! her +judgment had indeed been taken from me. She whispered to me:</p> + +<p>"Promise me that you will never tell him. I am dying! he need never know +now. Will you promise me?"</p> + +<p>I promised, and she died! I have kept my promise—Lance Fleming knows +nothing of what I have told you.</p> + +<p>Only Heaven knows how far she sinned or was sinned against. I never see +the sunset, or hear the waves come rolling in, without thinking of the +tragedy on the pier.</p> + + +<h4>THE END.</h4> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>[Transcriber's Note: Several typographical errors from the original +edition have been corrected.</p> + +<p><i>white, slivery foam</i> has been changed to <i>white, silvery foam</i>.</p> + +<p><i>an entensive park</i> has been changed to <i>an extensive park</i>.</p> + +<p><i>the magnificent retriver</i> has been changed to <i>the magnificent +retriever</i>.</p> + +<p><i>a ring of such clear, music</i> has been changed to <i>a ring of such clear +music</i>.</p> + +<p><i>the breat boughs</i> has been changed to <i>the great boughs</i>.</p> + +<p><i>come to your own room, John and</i> has been changed to <i>come to your own +room, John, and</i>.</p> + +<p><i>a supberb picture</i> has been changed to <i>a superb picture</i>.</p> + +<p><i>it was utterably impossible that my suspicious could be correct</i> has +been changed to <i>it was utterly impossible that my suspicions could be +correct</i>.</p> + +<p><i>seeming unconciousness</i> has been changed to <i>seeming unconsciousness</i>.</p> + +<p>A missing quotation mark has been added at the end of the line <i>I do not +like thee, Doctor Fell!'</i></p> + +<p>An extraneous quotation mark has been removed from the sentence +beginning <i>I meant nothing by the words</i>.</p> + +<p>A missing quotation mark has been added to the sentence <i>I will go into +the house."</i></p> + +<p>A missing quotation has been added to the sentence <i>I am not tired, Mrs. +Fleming, I am interested," I said.</i></p> + +<p>In the sentence <i>He heard her as plainly as I here the river here</i> +"here" has been changed to "hear".</p> + +<p>An extra comma has been removed from the line <i>my old friend," he +added,, "I am afraid</i>.]</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tragedy of the Chain Pier +by Charlotte M. Braeme + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRAGEDY OF THE CHAIN PIER *** + +***** This file should be named 15183-h.htm or 15183-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/1/8/15183/ + +Produced by Steven desJardins and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/15183-h/images/cover.jpg b/15183-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d949575 --- /dev/null +++ b/15183-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/15183.txt b/15183.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1a22ccc --- /dev/null +++ b/15183.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3003 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Tragedy of the Chain Pier, by Charlotte M. Braeme + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Tragedy of the Chain Pier + Everyday Life Library No. 3 + +Author: Charlotte M. Braeme + +Release Date: February 26, 2005 [EBook #15183] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRAGEDY OF THE CHAIN PIER *** + + + + +Produced by Steven desJardins and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +EVERYDAY LIFE LIBRARY No. 3 +Published by EVERYDAY LIFE, Chicago + + + + +THE TRAGEDY OF THE CHAIN PIER + +By CHARLOTTE M. BRAEME + +[Illustration] + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Most visitors to Brighton prefer the new pier; it is altogether a more +magnificent affair. It is in the fashionable town, for fashion will go +westward; it is larger, more commodious, more frequented. Go to the West +Pier when you will, there is always something to see; beautiful women, +pretty girls, fashionable belles promenade incessantly. There are times +when it is crowded, and there is even a difficulty in making room for +all who come. No wonder the elite of Brighton like the West Pier; it is +one of the most enjoyable spots in England; every luxury and comfort is +there; a good library, plenty of newspapers, elegant little shops, +excellent refreshment rooms, fine music; and then the lovely blue, +dimpling sea, the little boats with their white sails, like white-winged +birds on the water, the grand stretch of the waves, the blue sky +overhead, and the town, with its fine, tall houses shining in the +sunlight, the line of white cliff and the beach where the children are +at play. You go down to the wonderful jetty, which, to me, was one of +the most mysterious and romantic of places. There the water is of the +deepest, choicest emerald green, and it washes the wonderful net-work of +poles with a soft, lapping sound beautiful to hear. You can stand there +with only a rail between you and the green, deep water, watching the +fisher-boats out on the deep; watching, perhaps, the steamer with its +load of passengers, or looking over the wide sunlit waves, +dreaming--dreams born of the sea--out of the world; alone in the kingdom +of fancy; there is always something weird in the presence of deep, +silent, moving waters. + +There is always plenty of life, gayety and fashion on the West Pier. It +is a famous place, not for love-making but for flirtation; a famous +place for studying human nature; a famous place for passing a pleasant +hour. You may often meet great celebrities on the West Pier; faces +familiar at the House of Lords, familiar at Court, familiar at the +opera, are to be seen there during the season; beautiful faces that have +grown pale and worn with the excitement of a London campaign, and here, +as they are bent thoughtfully over the green waters, the bracing air +brings sweet roses, the lines fade, the eyes brighten; there is no such +beautifier as a sea breeze, no bloom so radiant and charming as that +brought by the wind from the sea. + +On the West Pier you will find all the beauty, rank and fashion of +Brighton; you will see costumes a ravir, dresses that are artistic and +elegant; you will see faces beautiful and well-known; you will hear a +charming ripple of conversation; you will witness many pleasant and +piquant adventures; but if you want to dream; if you want to give up +your whole heart and soul to the poetry of the sea; if you want to +listen to its voice and hear no other; if you want to shut yourself away +from the world; if you want to hear the music of the winds, their +whispers, their lullabies, their mad dashes, their frantic rages, you +must go to the Old Chain Pier. As a rule you will find few there, but +you may know they are a special few; you will see the grave, quiet face +of the thinker, who has chosen that spot because he does not want to be +disturbed by the frou-frou of ladies' dresses, or the music of their +happy voices; he wants to be alone with the sea and the wind. + +It often happens that you find a pair of very happy lovers there--they +go to the side and lean over the railing as though their sole object in +life was to watch the rippling sea. Do not believe them, for you will +hear the murmur of two voices, and the theme is always "love." If you go +near them they look shyly at you, and in a few minutes move gently away. +Ah, happy lovers, make hay while the sun shines; it does not shine +always, even over the Chain Pier. + +If you want to watch the waves, to hear their rolling music, if you want +to see the seagulls whirl in the blue ether, if you want to think, to +read, to be alone, to fill your mind with beautiful thoughts, go to the +Chain Pier at Brighton. + +There is a jetty--an old-fashioned, weird place, where the green water +rushes swiftly and washes round the green wood, where there is always a +beautiful sound of the rising and falling of the sea; where you may sit +on one of the old-fashioned seats, seeing nothing but water and sky +around you, until you can fancy yourself out in the wide ocean; until +you can wrap your thoughts and your senses in the very mists of romance. +Time was when the Chain Pier at Brighton was one of the wonders of +England, and even now, with its picturesque chains and arches, I like it +better than any other. + +I may as well tell the truth while I write of it. I know that if the +dead can rise from their graves I shall re-visit the Chain Pier at +Brighton. I spent one hour there--that was the hour of my life--one +madly happy, bewildering hour! I remember the plank of wood on which my +feet rested; I remember the railing, over which I heard the green, deep +water, with the white-sailed boat in the distance--sails like the white +wings of angels beckoning me away; the blue sky with the few fleecy +white clouds--the wash of the waters against the woodwork of the pier; +and I remember the face that looked down into mine--all Heaven lay in it +for me; the deep water, the blue sky, the handsome face, the measured +rhythms of the sea, the calm tones of the clear waves--are all mixed in +one dream. I cry out in anguish at times that Heaven may send me such +another, but it can never be! If the dead can return, I shall stand +once more where I stood then. I will not tell my story now, but rather +tell of the tragedy with which the Chain Pier at Brighton is associated +for evermore in my mind. + +I had gone down to Brighton for my health, and I was staying at the most +comfortable and luxurious of hotels, "The Norfolk." It was the end of +September, and the only peculiarity of the month that I remember was +this: the nights grew dark very soon--they were not cold; the darkness +was rather that of soft thick gloom that spread over land and sea. No +one need ever feel dull in Brighton. If I could have liked billiards, or +cared for the theater, or enjoyed the brilliant shops on the crowded +pier, with its fine music, I might have been happy enough; but I was +miserable with this aching pain of regret and the chill desolation of a +terrible loss. I tried the Aquarium. If fishes could soothe the heart of +man, solace might be found there; but to my morbid fancy they looked at +me with wide open eyes of wonder--they knew the secrets of the sea--the +faint stir of life in the beautiful anemones had lost its interest. I +could not smile at the King Crabs; the reading tables and the music had +no interest for me; outwardly I was walking through the magnificent +halls of the Aquarium--inwardly my heart was beating to the mournful +rhythms of the sea. The clock had not struck seven when I came out, and +there lying before me was the Chain Pier. + +I went there as naturally as the needle goes to the magnet. The moon +shone with a fitful light--at times it was bright as day--flooded the +sea with silver and showed the chain and the arches of the pier as +plainly as the sun could have done--showed the running of the +waves--they were busy that evening and came in fast--spreading out in +great sheets of white foam, and when the moonlight did touch the foam it +was beautiful to see. + +But my lady moon was coquettish--every now and then she hid her face +behind a drifting cloud, then the soft, thick gloom fell again, and the +pier lay like a huge shadow--the very place, I thought, in which a +tortured heart could grow calm; there was only the wind and the sea, +nothing more. I would go to the spot where we two should stand together +never more. I fancied, as I paid for admission at the gate, that the +face of the person who received it expressed some surprise. It must have +seemed a strange taste; but--ah, me!--there had bloomed for me for one +short hour the flowers of paradise. + +The thick, soft gloom was deeper on the pier. I remember that, as I +walked down, I heard from the church clocks the hour of eight. All along +the coast there was a line of light; the town was brilliantly lighted, +and when I looked across the waters the West Pier was in all its +radiance; the sound of the music floated over the waves to me, the light +of the colored lamps shone far and wide. I could see the moving mass of +people; here I was almost alone. I saw a gentleman smoking a cigar, I +saw the inevitable lovers, I saw an old man with an iron face, I saw two +young men, almost boys--what had brought them there I could not think. + +I reached the pier-head, where the huge lamp had been lighted and shone +like a great brilliant jewel. I sat down; there was no greater pleasure +for me than an evening spent there. At first all was quite still; the +gentleman smoking his cigar walked up and down; the two youths, who had +evidently mistaken the nature of the pier, and considered themselves +greatly injured by the absence of music and company, went away; the old +man sat still for some time, then he left. + +I was alone then with the smoker, who troubled himself very little about +me. The coquettish moon threw a wide, laughing gleam around, then +vanished. A whole pile of thick, dark clouds came up from the west and +hid her fair face--by them the thick, soft gloom had deepened into +darkness. I was far from expecting anything tragical as I sat there, +cold and desolate, lonely. As it was, the Chain Pier was more like home +to me than any other spot on earth, because of the one hour I had spent +there. + +The wind began to freshen and blow coldly where I sat. I had no motive +in changing my seat, except to escape the sharpness of the breeze. I +crossed to the other side, where the white line of cliffs lay--away from +the brilliant lights of the west pier, hidden behind the wooden +structure erected to shelter those on the pier. I gave myself up to my +dreams. + +I cannot tell how it was, but to-night many ghostly stories that I had +read about piers came to my mind. For instance, now, how easy it would +be for any man to steal up to me through the thick, soft, shadowy mist, +and murder me before I had time even to utter a cry, I might be thrown +over into the sea. + +Then I said to myself, what a foolish thought! I was close to many +people, such a murder was quite impossible. Yet I was foolish enough to +turn my head and try to peer through the darkness to see if any one was +near. + +The tall, slender figure of a woman dressed in a dark cloak was slowly +walking up the middle of the pier. She could not see me, but I saw +her--plainly, distinctly. I noticed the grace of her movements, her +grand carriage. She was closely veiled, so that I could not see her +face. But, unless I was much mistaken, she carried a bundle of something +held tightly under her arm. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +If this had been an ordinary woman, I should not have noticed her, +beyond the passing regard of the moment; it was the grace of her walk +that attracted my attention, and I felt sure that as she passed my by I +heard the sound of bitter passionate sobbing. + +The old story over again, I thought--sorrow and pain, longing and love! +But for the sound of that sob as she passed me I should not have watched +her--I should not have known what afterward I would have given my life +not to know. + +She walked right on to the very head of the pier, and stood there for a +few minutes. I knew, by instinct, that she was crying bitterly; then I +was struck by the manner in which she looked round; it was evident to me +that she wished to be quite alone. At times the waves playing round the +wooden pillars made some unusual sound; she turned quickly, as though +she suspected some one was near her. Once a gentleman strolled leisurely +down the pier, stood for a few minutes watching the sea in silence, then +went away; while he was there she stood still and motionless as a +statue; then she looked round with a stealthy gaze--a gaze so unlike the +free, grand grace of her movements that I was struck by it. She could +not see me because I was in the deep shadow, but I could see every +gesture of hers. I saw her raise her face to the darkling skies, and I +felt that some despairing prayer was on her lip, and the reason why I +could see her so plainly was this, that she stood just where the rays of +the lamps fell brightly. + +It was a dramatic scene: the dark, heaving sea, with the fitful gleam of +the moonlight; the silent pier, with the one huge light; the tall, dark +figure standing there so motionless. Why did she look round with that +hurried stealthy glance, as though so desirous of being alone? Presently +she seemed to realize that she stood where the light fell brightest, and +she turned away. She walked to the side of the pier farthest from me, +where she stood opposite to the bright lights of the western pier. She +did not remain there long, but crossed again, and this time she chose +that part of the pier where I was sitting. + +Far back in the deep shade in the corner she did not see me; she did not +suspect that any one was near. I saw her give a hasty look down the +pier, but her glance never fell on the corner where I sat. She went to +the railings--one or two of them were broken and had not been repaired; +in a more frequented place it might, perhaps, have been dangerous. She +did not seem to notice it. She stood for some minutes in silence; then I +heard again bitter weeping, passionate sobs, long-drawn sighs. I heard a +smothered cry of "Oh, Heaven; oh, Heaven have pity!" and then a sickly +gleam of light came from the sky, and by its light I saw that she took +the bundle from under her arm. I could not see what it was or what it +held, but she bent her head over it, she kissed it, sobbed over it with +passionate sobs, then raised it above the railings and let it fall +slowly into the water. + +There was a slight splash; no other sound. As she raised the bundle I +saw distinctly that it was something wrapped in a gray and black shawl. + +I swear before Heaven that no thought of wrong came to my mind; I never +dreamed of it. I had watched her first because the rare grace of her +tall figure and of her walk came to me as a surprise, then because she +was evidently in such bitter sorrow, then because she seemed so desirous +of being alone, but never did one thought cross my mind that there was a +shadow of blame--or wrong; I should have been far more on the alert had +I thought so. I was always of a dreamy, sentimental, half-awake kind of +mind; I thought of nothing more than a woman, desperate, perhaps, with +an unhappy love, throwing the love-letters and presents of a faithless +lover into the sea--nothing more. I repeat this most emphatically, as I +should not like any suspicion of indolence or indifference to rest upon +me. + +A slight splash--not of anything heavy--no other sound; no cry, no +word--a moment's pause in the running of the waves, then they went on +again as gayly as ever, washing the wooden pillars, and wreathing them +with fresh seaweed. The tall figure, with the head bent over the rail, +might have been a statue for all the life or stir there was within her. + +Quite a quarter of an hour passed, and she did not stir. I began to +wonder if she were dead; her head was bent the whole time, watching the +waves as they ran hurrying past. Then the lady moon relented, and showed +her fair face again; a flood of silver fell over the sea--each wave +seemed to catch some of it, and break with a thousand ripples of +light--the white cliffs caught it--it fell on the old pier, and the tall +black figure stood out in bold relief against the moonlit sky. + +I was almost startled when she turned round, and I saw her face quite +plainly. The same light that revealed her pretty little face and figure, +threw a deeper shade over me. She looked anxiously up and down, yet by a +singular fatality never looked at the corner of the wooden building +where I sat. I have often wondered since that I did not cry out when I +saw that face--so wonderfully beautiful, but so marble white, so sad, so +intent, so earnest, the beautiful eyes wild with pain, the beautiful +mouth quivering. I can see it now, and I shall see it until I die. + +There was a low, broad brow, and golden-brown hair clustered on it--hair +that was like a crown; the face was oval-shaped, exquisitely beautiful, +with a short upper lip, a full, lovely under one, and a perfectly +modeled chin. But it was the face of a woman almost mad with despair. + +"Oh, Heaven! if I dare--if I dare!" she cried. She flung up her hands +with the gesture of one who has no hope; she looked over at the sea, +once more at the pier, then slowly turned away, and again quite plainly +I heard the words, "Oh, Heaven! if I dare--if I dare!" + +She then walked slowly away, and I lost sight of her under the silent +arches; but I could not forget her. What a face!--what beauty, what +passion, what pain, what love and despair, what goodness and power! What +a face! When should I ever forget it? + +Impelled by curiosity, I went to the railings, and I stood where she +stood. I looked down. How deep and fathomless it seemed, this running +sea! What was it she had dropped there? In my mind's eye I saw a most +pathetic little bundle made of love-letters; I pictured them tied with a +pretty faded ribbon; there would be dried flowers, each one a momento of +some happy occasion. I could fancy the dried roses, the withered +forget-me-nots, the violets, with some faint odor lingering still around +them. Then there would be a valentine, perhaps two or three; a +photograph, and probably an engagement ring. She had flung them away +into the depths of the sea, and only Heaven knows what hopes and love +she had flung with them! I could understand now what that cry meant--"If +I dare--if I dare!" + +It meant that if she dare she would fling herself into the sea after +them! How many hopes had been flung, like hers, into those black depths! + +Then I came to the conclusion that I was, to say the least of it, a +simpleton to waste so much time and thought about another person's +affairs. + +I remember that, as I walked slowly down the pier, I met several people, +and that I felt a glow of pleasure at the thought that some people had +the good sense to prefer the Chain Pier. And then I went home. + +A game at billiards, a long chat in the smoke-room, ought to have +distracted my mind from the little incident I had witnessed, but it did +not. My bed-room faced the sea, and I drew up the blind so that I might +look at it once more. The beautiful sea has many weird aspects, none +stranger than when it lies heaving sullenly under the light of the moon. +Fascinated, charmed, I stood to watch it. The moon had changed her mind; +she meant to shine now; the clouds had all vanished; the sky was dark +and blue; the stars were shining; but the wind had quickened, and the +waves rolled in briskly, with white, silvery foam marking their +progress. + +The Chain Pier stood out quite clear and distinct in the moonlight; very +fair and shapely it looked. Then I went to sleep and dreamed of the +white, beautiful, desperate face--of the woman who had, I believed, +thrown her love-letters into the sea. The wind grew rougher and the sea +grew angry during the night; when at times I woke from my sleep I could +hear them. Ah! long before this the love-letters had been destroyed--had +been torn by the swift waves; the faded flowers and all the pretty +love-tokens were done to death in the brisk waters. I wondered if, in +thought, that beautiful, desperate woman would go back to that spot on +the Chain Pier. + +The morning following dawned bright and calm; there was a golden +sunlight and a blue sea; why the color of the water should change so +greatly, I could not think, but change it did. I have seen it clear as +an emerald, and I have seen it blue as the lakes and seas of Italy. This +morning it wore a blue dress, and a thousand, brilliants danced on its +broad, sweet bosom. Already there were a number of people on the +promenade; both piers looked beautiful, and were full of life and +activity. It must have been some kind of holiday, although I forget for +what the flags were flying, and there was a holiday look about the town. +I thought I would walk for ten minutes before my breakfast. I went +toward the Chain Pier, drawn by the irresistible attraction of the face +I had seen there last evening. + +It struck me that there was an unusual number of people about the Chain +Pier; quite a crowd had collected at the gate. People were talking to +each other in an excited fashion. I saw one or two policemen, and I came +to the conclusion that some accident or other had happened on the pier. +I went up to the crowd--two or three boatmen stood leaning over the +rail. + +"What is the matter?" I asked. + +"Matter, sir?" replied one; "there is matter enough. There must have +been murder, or something very much like it, done on that pier last +night." + +"Murder?" I cried, with a beating heart; "do not use such a horrible +word." + +"It is a horrible thing, sir, but it has been done," replied the +boatman. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Why the word "murder" struck me with such a horror I cannot tell. I +stood looking at the old boatman like one struck with dismay. I was on +the point of saying that it was quite impossible, for I had been on the +Chain Pier last night, and had seen nothing of the kind. Some prudent +impulse restrained me. + +"I would not go so far as to say it was murder," interrupted a sturdy +boatman. "I have been about here a great many years, and I have seen +some queer things. I should hardly call this murder." + +"It was a life taken away, whether you call it murder or not," said the +old man. + +"May be; but I am not sure. I have seen many mad with misery, but murder +is a rare thing." + +"What is it?" I asked. + +"A child, sir--only a little child," said the sturdy boatman. "The body +of a little child found drowned off the pier here." + +Now, why should I start and tremble and grow sick at heart? What had it +to do with me? I knew nothing of any murdered child, yet great drops +formed on my brow, and my very heart trembled. + +"A little child found drowned," I repeated; "but how do you know it was +murdered? It may have fallen into the water." + +"It was not old enough for that, sir," said the elder boatman; "it is +but a fair little mite--a baby girl; they say not more than three months +old." + +Ah! why did the beautiful, desperate face I had seen the night before +flash before my eyes then? + +The boatman went on: + +"It is plain to my eyes that it is a murder, although the child is but a +tender babe; all the greater murder for that; a bigger child might have +helped itself; this one could not." + +"Tell me about it," I said. + +Ah! if my heart would but stop beating, or if the beautiful, desperate +face would but fade from my memory. + +"It was James Clayton who found it," continued the old man. "He was at +work in the jetty this morning when he caught sight of something moving +up and down with the waves. At first he thought it looked like an old +rag, and he took no notice of it; then something about it attracted his +attention more and more. He went nearer, and found that it was a gray +and black shawl, that had caught on some large hooks which had been +driven into the wooden pillars for some purpose or other--a woman's +shawl, sure as could be; some lady, he thought, had dropped it over the +pier, and it had caught on these hooks below the water. Jim was pleased. +He thought, if worth anything, he might get a trifle reward for it; if +not, he might take it home to his old mother. + +"He took his boat to the spot, but, sir, to Jim's surprise, he found it +was not only a shawl, but a bundle. He thought he had found a treasure, +and hastened to get it quickly off the hooks. It had been caught more +tightly by accident than it could have been placed there by human +hands. It was tight on the hooks, and he had to tear the shawl to get it +off. He lost no time opening it, and there was a little, fair child, +drowned and dead. + +"It was not a pleasant sight, sir, on a bright morning, when the +sunshine was dancing over the waves. Jim said his heart turned quite +faint when he saw the little white body--such a fair little mite, sir, +it was enough to make the very angels weep! Some woman, sir--Heaven +forbid that it was the mother--some woman had dressed it in pretty white +clothes. It had a white gown, with lace, and a soft white woolen cap on +the little golden head. A sorry sight, sir--a sorry sight! Jim said that +when he thought of that little tender body swinging to and fro with the +waves all the night, he could not keep the tears from his eyes. + +"It was meant to sink, you see, sir," continued the man, with rough +energy; "it was never meant to be caught. But the great God, He is above +all, and He knows the little one was not to sink to the bottom, like +lead. It is true, sir, and murder will out." + +"But is nothing known?" I asked. "Surely such a thing could never be +done without some one seeing or knowing something about it." + +"I am afraid, sir, no one knows but the one who did it. Some woman, sir, +had dressed the little thing--a man would never have thought of the soft +woolen cap. And I can tell you another thing, sir--a man would never +have killed a child like that; not that I am upholding men--some of them +are brutes enough--but I do not think any man would throw a little babe +into the water. When a woman is bad, she is bad, and there is nothing +vile enough for her." + +I though of the beautiful and desperate face. Heaven grant that she +might have nothing to do with this! And yet--the black and gray shawl! + +"Whereabouts was it?" I asked. + +He pointed with his hand to the very spot where she had stood. + +"Just there," he said. "It was there the little bundle was thrown, and +there, just below the line of the jetty, it was caught by the hooks." + +The identical spot where she had stood. Oh, beautiful, despairing face, +what was hidden underneath your mask of stone? + +"You should go on the pier, sir, and see for yourself," said the old +man. "The superintendent of the police is there now; but they will never +find out who did that. Women are deep when they are wicked, and the one +who did this was wicked enough." + +There was a slight suggestion on the part of the little group as to the +morning being a dry one. We parted on very satisfactory terms. + +I went on the pier, and under the wooden shelter where I had sat last +night I saw a group--the superintendent of the police with one of the +officers, the manager of the pier, the keepers of the different stalls, +a few strangers, and Jim, the boatman, who had found the little bundle +dripping wet. Oh, Heaven, the pathos of it! On the wooden seat lay the +little bundle, so white, so fair, like a small, pale rose-bud, and by +it, in a wet heap, lay the black and gray shawl. I knew it in one +moment; there was not another word to be said; that was the same shawl I +had seen in the woman's hands when she dropped the little bundle into +the sea--the self-same. I had seen it plainly by the bright, fitful +gleam of the moon. The superintendent said something to me, and I went +forward to look at the little child--so small, so fair, so tender--how +could any woman, with a woman's heart, drop that warm, soft little +nursling into the cold, deep sea? It was a woman who killed Joel--a +woman who slew Holofernes--but the woman who drowned this little, tiny +child was more cruel by far than they. + +"What a sweet little face!" said the superintendent; "it looks just as +though it were made of wax." + +I bent forward. Ah! if I had doubted before, I could doubt no longer. +The little face, even in its waxen pallor, was like the beautiful one I +had seen in its white despair last night. Just the same cluster of hair, +the same beautiful mouth and molded chin. Mother and child, I knew and +felt sure. The little white garments were dripping, and some kind, +motherly woman in the crowd came forward and dried the little face. + +"Poor little thing!" she said; "how I should like to take those wet +things off, and make it warm by a good fire!" + +"It will never be warm again in this world," said one of the boatmen. +"There is but little chance when a child has lain all night in the sea." + +"All night in the sea!" said the pitiful woman; "and my children lay so +warm and comfortable in their little soft beds. All night in the sea! +Poor little motherless thing!" + +She seemed to take it quite for granted that the child must be +motherless; in her loving, motherly heart she could not think of such a +crime as a mother destroying her own child. I saw that all the men who +stood round the body were struck with this. + +"What will be done with it?" she asked. + +"It will go to the dead-house at the work-house," said the +superintendent, "and the parish will bury it." + +Then I stood forward. + +"No!" I cried; "if the authorities will permit, I will take upon myself +the expense of burying that little child--it shall not have a pauper's +funeral; it shall be buried in the beautiful green cemetery in the Lewes +Road, and it shall have a white marble cross at the head of its grave." + +"You are very good, sir," said the superintendent, and the pitiful woman +cried out: + +"Heaven bless you, sir! I would do the same thing myself if I could +afford it." + +"There must be an inquest," said some one in the crowd; "we ought to +know whether the child was dead before it was thrown into the water." + +"I hope to Heaven it was!" cried the woman. + +And I said to myself that, if that were the case, it would not be +murder--not murder, but some mad, miserable mother's way out of some +dreadful difficulty. + +Surely on the beautiful, despairing face I had not seen the brand of +murder. If the little one had been dead, that would lessen the degree of +wickedness so greatly. + +The woman who had dried and kissed the tiny waxen face bent over it now. + +"I am sure," she said, "that the child was alive when it touched the +water." + +"How do you know?" asked the superintendent, curiously. + +"Look at the face, sir, and you will see." + +"I see nothing," he replied. + +"I do," she said. "I see just what you would see on the face of a baby +suddenly plunged into cold water. I see the signs of faint, baby +surprise. Look at the baby brows and the little hand spread wide open. +It was living when it touched the water, I am sure of that." + +"A doctor will soon settle that question," said the superintendent. + +Then the little one was carried by rough but not ungentle hands to the +dead-house on the hill. I went with it. I overheard the superintendent +tell the master of the work-house that I was a rich man--an invalid--and +that I passed a great deal of my time at Brighton. In a lowered voice he +added that I was very eccentric, and that happening to be on the Chain +Pier that morning, I had insisted upon paying the expenses of the little +funeral. + +"A kind, Christian gentlemen," the master said. "I am glad to hear it." + +I shall never forget the pitiful sight of that tiny white form laid on +the table alone--quite alone--I could not forget it. The matron had +found a little white dress to wrap it in, and with kindly thought had +laid some white chrysanthemums on the little, innocent breast. Whenever +I see a chrysanthemum now it brings back to my mind the whole scene--the +bare, white walls, the clean wooden floor, the black tressels, and the +table whereon the fair, tender little body lay--all alone. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Our little life in this world seems of little count. Throw a stone into +the sea--it makes a splash that lasts for one second, then it is all +over; the waves roll on just as though it had not been dropped. + +The death of this one little child, whom no one knew and for whom no one +cared, was of less than no account; it made a small paragraph in the +newspapers--it had caused some little commotion on the pier--just a +little hurry at the work-house, and then it was forgotten. What was such +a little waif and stray--such a small, fair, tender little creature to +the gay crowd? + +"A child found drowned by the Chain Pier." Kind-hearted, motherly women +shrugged their shoulders with a sigh. The finding or the death of such +hapless little ones is, alas! not rare. I do not think of the hundreds +who carelessly heard the words that morning there was one who stopped to +think of the possible suffering of the child. It is a wide step from the +warmth of a mother's arms to the chill of the deep-sea water. The gay +tide of fashion ebbed and flowed just the same; the band played on the +Chain Pier the morning following; the sunbeams danced on the +water--there was nothing to remind one of the little life so suddenly +and terribly closed. + +There was not much more to tell. There was an inquest, but it was not of +much use. Every one knew that the child had been drowned; the doctor +thought it had been drugged before it was drowned; there was very little +to be said about it. Jim, the boatman, proved the finding of it. The +coroner said a few civil words when he heard that one of the visitors of +the town, out of sheer pity, had offered to defray the expenses of the +little funeral. + +The little unknown babe, who had spent the night in the deep sea, was +buried in the cemetery on the Lewes Road. I bought a grave for her under +the spreading boughs of a tree; she had a white pall and a quantity of +white flowers. The matron from the work-house went, and it was not at +all like a pauper's funeral. The sun was shining, and the balmy air was +filled with the song of birds; but then the sun does shine, and the +birds will sing, for paupers! + +I ordered a small white marble cross; it stands underneath the trees at +the head of the little green grove. When the head mason asked me what +name was to be put upon it, I was puzzled. Only Heaven knew whether the +helpless little child had a claim to any name, and, if so, what that +name was. I bethought myself of one name; it meant bitterness of deep +waters. + +"I will call it 'Marah,'" I said, and the name stands there on the +marble cross: + +"Marah, aged three weeks. Found drowned in the sea, September, 18--." + +Only one small grave among so many, but a grave over which no mother has +shed a tear. Then, after a few days more, I forgot almost all about it; +yet at that time I was so lonely, so utterly desolate, that I felt some +kind of tie bound me to the little grave, and made me love the spot. It +was soon all forgotten, but I never forgot the beautiful, despairing +face I had seen on the pier that night--the face that seemed to have +passed me with the quickness of a swift wind, yet which was impressed on +my brain forever. + +I have been writing to you, dear reader, behind a veil; let me draw it +aside. My name is John Ford--by no means a romantic name--but I come of +a good family. I am one of the world's unfortunates. I had neither +brother nor sister; my father and mother died while I was quite young; +they left me a large fortune, but no relations--no one to love me. My +guardian was a stern, grave elderly man; my youth was lonely, my manhood +more lonely still. I found a fair and dainty love, but she proved false; +she left me for one who had more gold and a title to give her. When I +lost her, all my happiness died; the only consolation I found was going +about from place to place trying to do good where I could. This little +incident on the Chain Pier aroused me more than anything had done for +some time. + +I had one comfort in life--a friend whom I loved dearer than a brother, +Lancelot Fleming; and lately he had come into possession of a very nice +estate called Dutton Manor, a fine old mansion, standing in the midst of +an extensive park, and with it an income of three thousand per annum. +Lance Fleming had been brought up to the bar, but he never cared much +for his profession, and was much pleased when he succeeded to his +cousin's estate. + +He had invited me several times to visit Dutton Manor, but something or +other had always intervened to prevent it. Lance came to see me; we +traveled together; we were the very opposite of each other. He was +frank, gay, cheerful, always laughing, always with some grand jest on +the tapis--a laughing, sunny, blue-eyed fellow, who was like a sunbeam +in every house he entered; he was always either whistling or singing, +and his bright, cheery voice trolled out such snatches of sweet song +that it was a pleasure to hear him. + +I am naturally melancholy, and have a tendency to look always on the +dark side of things. You can imagine how I loved Lance Fleming; the love +that other men give to wives, children, parents and relatives I lavished +on him. I loved his fair, handsome face, his laughing blue eyes, his +sunny smile, his cheery voice; I loved his warm-hearted, genial manner. +In fact, I loved the whole man, just as he was, with a love passing that +of women--loved him as I shall love no other. + +Naturally enough, Lance was a great favorite with the ladies; every +woman who saw him loved him more or less. He was quite irresistible +when, in addition to his handsome face and sweet temper, came the charm +of being master of a grand old manor-house, with three thousand per +annum. No wonder that he was popular. The only thing which troubled me +about Lance was his marriage; I always feared it. With his gay, +passionate temperament, his universal admiration and chivalrous manner +of treating the fair sex, it was certain that he would, sooner or later, +fall in love and marry. From what I knew of him, from the innate +conviction of my own love, I felt sure that his marriage would be the +hinge on which his whole life would turn. I was very anxious about it, +and talked to him a great deal about it when we were together. + +"If you marry the right woman, Lance," I said to him, "you will be one +of the happiest and most successful men in the world; but if you should +make a mistake, you will be one of the most miserable." + +"I shall make no mistake, John. I know that somewhere or other the most +adorable woman in the whole world is waiting for me. I shall be sure to +find her, and fall in love with her, marry her, and live happy forever +afterward." + +"But you will be careful, Lance?" I said. + +"As careful as a man can be; but, John, as you are so anxious, you had +better choose for me." + +"No," I replied. "I made so great a mistake when I had to choose for +myself that I shall never attempt it again." + +Circumstances happened that drew me over to America. I had a large +interest in some land there, and not caring about the trouble of it, I +went over to sell it. I succeeded in selling it to great profit, and as +I liked America I remained there three years. I sailed for America in +the month of October, two or three weeks after the incident of the Chain +Pier, and I returned to England after an absence of three years and +seven months. I found myself at home again when the lovely month of May +was at its fairest. During all that time only one incident of any note +happened to me, or, rather, happened that interested me. Lance Fleming +was married. + +He wrote whole volumes to me before his marriage, and he wrote whole +volumes afterwards. Of course, she was perfection--nay, just a little +beyond perfection, I think. She was beautiful, clever, accomplished, +and such a darling--of course, I might be sure of that. One thing only +was wanted to make him perfectly happy--it was that I should see his +lady-love. Her name was Frances Wynn, and he assured me that it was the +most poetical name in the world. Page after page of rhapsody did he +write and I read, until at last I believed him, that he had found the +one perfect woman in the world. + +Lance wrote oftener still when I told him that I was coming home. I must +go at once to Dutton Manor. I should find Dutton Manor an earthly +Paradise, he said, and he was doubly delighted that I should be there in +May, for in May it wore its fairest aspect. + +"A wife makes home heaven, John," he never tired of writing. "I wonder +often why Heaven has blessed me so greatly. My wife is--well, I worship +her--she is a proud woman, calm, fair, and lovely as a saint. You will +never know how much I love her until you have seen her. She fills the +old manor-house with sunshine and music. I love to hear the gentle sound +of her voice, sweet and low as the sound of a lute--the frou-frou of her +dress as she moves about. I am even more in love with her than when I +married her, and I should not have thought that possible. Make haste +home, John, my dear old friend; even my happy home is incomplete without +you. Come and share its brightness with me." + +He wrote innumerable directions for my journey. The nearest railway +station to Dutton Manor was at Vale Royal, a pretty little town about +three miles from the house. If I would let him know by what train I +should reach Vale Royal, he would be at the station to meet me. And he +said--Heaven bless his dear, loving heart--that he was looking forward +to it with untold happiness. + +"When I think of seeing Frances and you together," he said, "I feel like +a school-boy out for a holiday. I will count the hours, John, until you +come." + +I had to go to London on business, and while there it was impossible to +resist the temptation of running on to Brighton. I loved the place so +well, and I had not seen it for so long. I wanted to stand once more on +the Chain Pier, and think of my lost heaven. How vividly it all came +back to me--that terrible tragedy, although more than three years had +passed since it happened. There was the corner where I had sat in the +thick, soft shadows; there was the railing against which she leaned when +she threw the little bundle in the water. + +I remembered the fitful light, the wash of the waves round the pier, the +beautiful, desperate face, and the voice that had wailed: "If I dare! +oh, my God, if I dare!" + +I went to see the little grave. The thick green grass which covered is +was studded with white daisies, the golden letters on the white cross +seemed to burn in the sunlight; "Marah. Found drowned." I had been to +the other end of the world, but no one had been to shed a tear over the +little grave. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +The face of an old friend is good to see after a long absence. Tears +filled my eyes when the sunny blue ones looked into them, and the +handsome face, quivering with emotion, smiled into mine. I was glad to +feel once more the clasp of that honest hand. + +"Ah, Lance," I cried, "I would travel twice as far for one hour with +you!" + +I shall never forget that pretty station at Vale Royal. A beautiful +brawling river ran close by, spanned by an old-fashioned rustic bridge; +three huge chestnut trees, now in full flower, seemed to shade the whole +place. + +"A pretty spot," said proud, happy Lance; "but wait till you see Dutton! +I tell Frances that I am quite sure it is the original garden of +Paradise!" + +"Let us pray that no serpent may enter therein," I said. + +"There is no fear, John," he replied; "my Frances would be an antidote +against all the serpents in the world. We shall have a glorious drive +home! How do you like my carriage?" + +It was perfect, so were the horses, so was the groom in his neat livery, +so was the dogcart waiting for the luggage, so was the magnificent +retriever that ran with the carriage. What a drive it was! Of all +seasons, in all climes, give me an English spring. The hedges were +covered with white and pink hawthorn; the apple trees were all in bloom; +the air was redolent of mariets. The white lambs were in the meadows; +the leaves were springing on the trees; the birds singing. + +"It is like a new life, John," said the happy young fellow by my side; +then, quite unable to keep his thoughts or his words long away from her, +he continued: "Frances will be so pleased to see you; we have talked of +nothing else for a week." + +"I am afraid that she will be disappointed when she sees me, Lance." + +"No, indeed," he replied, heartily. "You look better than you did when +you went to America, John--you look younger, less haggard, less worn. +Perhaps you have found some comfort?" + +"Not of the kind you mean, Lance," I answered, "and I never shall." + +"Ah," he said, musingly, "what mischief one bad woman can make! And she +was a bad woman, this false love of yours, John." + +"If she had been a good one, she would have been true," I replied. + +"I think," said Lance, musingly, "that in all this world there is +nothing so horrible as a bad--a really bad or wicked woman! They seem to +me much worse than men, just as a good woman is better than a man could +ever be--is little less than an angel. + +"Do you know," he continued, his voice trembling with emotion, "I did +not understand how good a woman could be! My wife, Frances, is quite an +angel. When I see her in the morning, her fair face so fresh and pure, +kneeling down to say her prayers, I feel quite unworthy of her; when I +see the rapt, earnest expression of her face, as we sit side by side in +church, I long to be like her! She is one of the gentlest and sweetest +of women; there is no one like her!" + +"I am heartily glad that you are so happy, my dearest Lance," I said. + +He continued: "I know that my talking does not bore you; you are too +true a friend; it eases my heart, for it is always full of her. You do +not know how good she is! Why, John, the soul of a good woman is clear +and transparent, like a deep, clear lake; and in it one sees such +beautiful things. When my Frances speaks to a little child there comes +into her voice a beautiful tenderness--a ring of such clear music, that +I say to myself it is more like the voice of an angel than of a woman; +it is just the same when she speaks to any one in sorrow or sickness. +The strange thing to me is this: that though she is so good herself, so +pure and innocent, she has such profound compassion for the fallen and +the miserable. At Vale Royal, only a few months ago, there was one of +those unfortunate cases. A poor servant-girl--a very pretty and nice +girl, too, she was--was turned out of her mistress' house in the cold of +a winter's night; her boxes and wages were put in the street, and she +was told to go to the work-house. She almost went mad with despair and +shame. Frances would go to the rescue, and I honestly believe that +through my wife's charity and goodness that unhappy girl will be +restored to her place in the world, or that, at least, she will not go, +as she would otherwise have done, to the bad. I thought that a most +beautiful trait in her character." + +"So it was," I replied, liking my dear old friend all the better for his +great love for his wife. + +"She is always the same," he continued, "full of charity and tenderness +for the poor. You could not think how much they love her. All around +Vale Royal she is worshiped. I am a very fortunate man, John." + +"You are indeed," I replied. + +He went on: + +"I always had my ideal. I have known many. None ever reached my standard +but Frances, and she is my ideal come to life--the reality found, fair, +sweet, and true, a blonde, queenly woman. I should think that very few +men meet and marry their ideal as I have met and married mine. Ah, there +is the avenue that leads to the old manor-house! Who could have thought +that I should ever be master of a manor-house, John? Neither that nor +the handsome income belonging to it would be of any use without Frances. +It is Frances who makes the world to me." + +The avenue was a superb one. It consisted of tall chestnut trees +standing four deep. I have seen nothing finer. Just now the flowers were +all in bloom, the bees and butterflies had been all drawn there by their +odor; the birds were flitting in and out, making grand discoveries in +the great boughs; the ground was a carpet of flowers, white daisies and +golden buttercups mixed with wild hyacinths and graceful blue-bells. We +drove for some few minutes over this carpet, and then the old gray +manor-house stood before us, the prettiest picture ever seen on a +summer's day. The whole front of the house was covered with flowers, and +the ivy grew green and thick; it climbed to the very top of the towers. + +"Famous ivy," said Lance. "People come to Dutton to look at the ivy." + +"I do not wonder at it," I said. + +I was somewhat surprised at the style o the house. I had not expected +anything so grand, so beautiful. + +"We shall have time for a cigar and a stroll before dinner," said Lance, +as he threw the reins to the groom; "but you must see Frances first, +John--you must see her." + +But one of the servants told us that Mrs. Fleming was in the +drawing-room, engaged with Lady Ledbitter. Lance's face fell. + +"You do not seem to care for Lady Ledbitter," I said to him. + +"In truth I do not; she is a county magnate, and a local horror I call +her. She leads all the ladies of the country; they are frightened to +death of her; they frown when she frowns, smile when she smiles. I +begged of Frances not to fall under her sway, but I have begged in vain, +no doubt. If she has been there for half and hour Frances will have +given in." + +He turned on me suddenly, so suddenly, indeed, that he almost startled +me. + +"Do you know," he said, "those kind of women, fair and calm, whose +thoughts seem to be always turned inward? My wife is one of those; when +one talks to her she listens with her eyes down, and seems as though she +had left another world of thought just for your sake. Her manner always +piques one to go on talking for the sake of making her smile. I can just +imagine how she looks now, while Lady Ledbitter talks to her. Well, come +to your own room, John, and we will stroll round the grounds until her +ladyship has retreated." + +What a beautiful old house it was! One could tell so easily that a lady +of taste and refinement presided over it. The fine old oak was not +covered, but contrasting with it were thick, crimson rugs, hangings of +crimson velvet, and it was relieved by any amount of flowers; beautiful +pictures were hung with exquisite taste; white statues stood out in +grand relief against the dark walls. + +"Your wife is a woman of taste, that is quite evident, Lance," I said. + +My own room--a spacious chamber called the Blue Chamber--a large, +old-fashioned room with three windows, each window seat as large as a +small room; the hangings were of blue and white; there were a few +jardinieres with costly, odorous flowers; easy chairs, a comfortable +couch. Little stands had been placed with easy chairs in the window +seats; the room looked as though bluebells had been strewn with a +liberal hand on white ground. + +"How beautiful!" I cried; "I shall never want to leave this room again, +Lance." + +"I wish you would stay and never leave us; I am happy enough in having +Frances; if I had you as well, my happiness would be complete. You have +all you want, John; I will send your portmanteau." + +When Lance had gone I looked round my room and fell in love with it. It +had the charm of old fashion, of elegance, of space, of height, and from +the windows there was a magnificent view of the park and the gardens. + +"Lance must indeed be a happy man." I thought to myself. + +He came to me when I was dressed and we went out for a stroll through +the gardens. + +"We shall hear the dinner-bell," said Lance. "We will not go too far." + +We saw the stately equipage of Lady Ledbitter driven down the avenue. + +"Thank Heaven!" said Lance. "Now Frances is free. She will have gone to +her room. That good Lady Ledbitter has robbed us of a pleasant hour." + +I was surprised and delighted at the magnificence of the grounds. I had +never dreamed that Dutton manor-house was so extensive or so beautiful. + +"The great artist, Lilias, is coming here next week," said Lance. "I +want him to paint my wife's portrait. She will make a superb picture, +and when completed, that picture shall have the place of honor here in +the drawing-room. You will enjoy meeting him; he is a most intelligent, +amiable man." + +That good Lance; it seemed to me quite impossible that he could speak +even these words without bringing in Frances; but how bright and happy +he looked! I envied him. + +"Do as I have done, John," he said "Marry. Believe me, no man knows what +happiness means until he does marry." + +"You must find me a wife just like your own," I said, and the words came +back to me afterward with a fervent prayer of "Heaven forbid!--may +Heaven forbid!" + +"I shall never marry now, Lance," I said. "The only woman I could ever +love is dead to me." + +He looked at me very earnestly. + +"I wish you would forget all about her, John. She was not worthy of +you." + +"Perhaps not," I replied; "but that does not interfere with the love." + +"Why should you give all that loving heart of yours to one woman, John?" +he said. "If one fails, try another." + +"If your Frances died, should you love another woman?" I asked. + +"That is quite another thing," he said, and I saw in his heart he +resented the fact that I should place the woman who had been faithless +to me on an equality with his wife. Poor Lance! + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +As we drew near the house on our return, the first dinner-bell was +ringing. + +"We have twenty minutes yet," said Lance; "you will just have time to +say a few words to Frances; she is sure to be in the drawing-room." + +We went there. When the door was opened I saw a magnificent room--long, +lofty and bright, so cheerful and light--with such beautiful furniture, +and such superb hangings of white and gold. I was struck as I had never +been by any room before. The long French windows, opening like glass +doors, looked over a superb flower-garden, where flowers of every hue +were now in blossom. + +The room was full of sunlight; it faced the west, and the sun was +setting. For a few moments my eyes were dazzled; then as the golden haze +cleared, I saw a tall figure at the other end of the room, a beautiful +figure, dressed in a long robe of blue, with a crown of golden brown +hair; when she turned suddenly to us, I saw that she carried some sprays +of white hawthorn in her hand. At first my attention was concentrated on +the golden hair, the blue dress, the white flowers; then slowly, as +though following some irresistible magnetic attraction, my eyes were +raised to her face, and remained fixed there. I have wondered a thousand +times since how it was that no cry escaped my lips--how it was that none +of the cold, sick horror that filled my whole heart and soul did not +find vent in words. How was it? To this moment I cannot tell. Great +Heaven! what did I see? In this beloved and worshiped wife--in this fair +and queenly woman--in this tender and charitable lady, who was so good +to the fallen and miserable--in this woman, idolized by the man I loved +best upon earth, I saw the murderess--the woman who had dropped the +little bundle over the railing into the sea. + +It was she as surely as heaven shone above us. I recognized the +beautiful face, the light golden hair, the tall, graceful figure. The +face was not white, set desperate now, but bright, with a soft, sweet +radiance I have seen on the face of no other woman living. For an +instant my whole heart was paralyzed with horror. I felt my blood grow +cold and gather round my heart, leaving my face and hands cold. She came +forward to greet me with the same graceful, undulating grace which had +struck me before. For a moment I was back on the Chain Pier, with the +wild waste of waters around me, and the rapid rush of the waves in my +ear. Then a beautiful face was smiling into mine--a white hand, on which +rich jewels shone, was held out to me, a voice sweeter than any music I +had ever heard, said: + +"You are welcome to Dutton, Mr. Ford. My husband will be completely +happy now." + +Great Heaven! how could this woman be a murderess--the beautiful face, +the clear, limpid eyes--how could it be? No sweeter mouth ever smiled, +and the light that lay on her face was the light of Heaven itself. How +could it be? + +She seemed to wonder a little at my coldness, for she added: + +"I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see you, and Lance has thought of +nothing else during the last week." + +I wonder that I didn't cry out, "You are the woman who drowned the +little child off the Chain Pier." It was only the sight of Lance's face +that deterred me. I had some vague, indistinct notion of what those +words would be to him. + +"What is the matter, John?" asked Lance, impatiently. "The sight of my +wife's face seems to have struck you dumb." + +"It must be with admiration, then," I said, making a desperate effort to +recover myself. "I could almost think I had seen Mrs. Fleming's face +before." + +She looked at me frankly, and she laughed frankly. + +"I have a good memory for faces," she said; "and I do not remember to +have seen yours." + +There was no shadow of fear or of any effect at concealment; she did not +change color or shrink from me. + +Lance laughed aloud. + +"I wonder no longer at your being a bachelor," he said; "if the sight of +a beautiful face produces such a strange effect on you. You must deal +gently with him, Frances," he said to his wife; "his nerves are weak--he +cannot bear much at a time." + +"I promise to be very gentle," she said; and the music of that low, +caressing voice thrilled my very heart. "I think," she continued, "that +Mr. Ford looks very tired, Lance, pale and worn. We must take great care +of him." + +"That we will," was the hearty reply. + +Great Heaven! was it a murderess standing there, with that sweet look of +compassion on her beautiful face? Could this woman, who looked pitifully +on me, a grown man, drown a little child in the deep sea? Were those +lips, littering kindly words of welcome, the same that had cried in mad +despair, "Oh, Heaven! if I dare--if I dare?" I could have killed myself +for the base suspicion. Yet it was most surely she! + +I stooped to pick up the white hawthorn she had dropped. She took it +from me with the sweetest smile, and Lance stood by, looking on with an +air of proud proprietorship that would have been amusing if it had not +been so unutterably pitiful. + +While my brain and mind were still chaos--a whirl of thought and +emotion--the second dinner-bell rang. I offered her my arm, but I could +not refrain from a shudder as her white hand touched it. When I saw that +hand last it was most assuredly dropping the little burden into the sea. +Lance looked at us most ruefully, so that she laughed and said: + +"Come with us, Lance." + +She laid her other hand on his arm, and we all three walked into the +dining-room together. + +I could not eat any dinner--I could only sit and watch the beautiful +face. It was the face of a good woman--there was nothing cruel, nothing +subtle in it. I must be mistaken. I felt as though I should go mad. She +was a perfect hostess--most attentive--most graceful. I shall never +forget her kindness to me any more than I shall forget the comeliness of +her face or the gleam of her golden hair. + +She thought I was not well. She did not know that it was fear which had +blanched my face and made me tremble; she could not tell that it was +horror which curdled my blood. Without any fuss--she was so anxiously +considerate for me--without seeming to make any ceremony, she was so +gracefully kind; she would not let me sit in the draughts; with her own +hands she selected some purple grapes for me. This could never be the +woman who had drowned a little child. + +When dinner was over and we were in the drawing-room again, she drew a +chair near the fire for me. + +"You will laugh at the notion of a fire in May," she said; "but I find +the early summer evenings chilly, and I cannot bear the cold." + +I wondered if she thought of the chill of the water in which she had +plunged the little child. I looked at her; there was not even a fleeting +shadow on her face. Then she lingered for half a minute by my side. + +As she drew near to me, I felt again that it was utterly impossible +that my suspicions could be correct, and that I must be mistaken. + +"I hope," she said, "you will not think what I am going to say strange. +I know that it is the custom for some wives to be jealous of their +husband's friends--some might be jealous of you. I want to tell you that +I am not one of that kind. I love my husband so utterly, so entirely, +that all whom he loves are dear to me. You are a brother, friend, +everything to him--will you be the same to me?" + +A beautiful woman asking, with those sweet, sensitive lips, for my +friendship, looking at me with those calm, tender eyes, asking me to +like her for her husband's sake--the sweetest, the most gracious, the +most graceful picture I had ever seen. Yet, oh, Heaven! a murderess, if +ever there was one! She wondered why I did not respond to her advances. +I read the wonder in her face. + +"You do not care for hasty friends," she said. "Well, Lance and I are +one; if you like him, you must like me, and time will show." + +"You are more than good to me," I stammered, thinking in my heart if she +had been but half as good to the little helpless child she flung into +the sea. + +I have never seen a woman more charming--of more exquisite grace--of +more perfect accomplishment--greater fascination of manner. She sang to +us, and her voice was full of such sweet pathos it almost brought the +tears in my eyes. I could not reconcile what I saw now with what I had +seen on the Chain Pier, though outwardly the same woman I had seen on +the Chain Pier and this graceful, gracious lady could not possibly be +one. As the evening passed on, and I saw her bright, cheerful ways, her +devotion to her husband, her candid, frank open manner, I came to the +conclusion that I must be the victim either of a mania or of some +terrible mistake. Was it possible, though, that I could have been? Had I +not had the face clearly, distinctly, before me for the past three +years? + +One thing struck me during the evening. Watching her most narrowly, I +could not see in her any under-current of feeling; she seemed to think +what she said, and to say just what she thought; there were no musings, +no reveries, no fits of abstraction, such as one would think would go +always with sin or crime. Her attention was given always to what was +passing; she was not in the least like a person with anything weighing +on her mind. We were talking, Lance and I, of an old friend of ours, who +had gone to Nice, and that led to a digression on the different watering +places of England. Lance mentioned several, the climate of which he +declared was unsurpassed--those mysterious places of which one reads in +the papers, where violets grow in December, and the sun shines all the +year round. I cannot remember who first named Brighton, but I do +remember that she neither changed color nor shrank. + +"Now for a test," I said to myself. I looked at her straight in the +face, so that no expression of hers could escape me--no shadow pass over +her eyes unknown to me. + +"Do you know Brighton at all?" I asked her. I could see to the very +depths of those limpid eyes. No shadow came; the beautiful, attentive +face did not change in the least. She smiled as she replied: + +"I do not. I know Bournemouth and Eastbourne very well; I like +Bournemouth best." + +We had hardly touched upon the subject, and she had glided from it, yet +with such seeming unconsciousness. I laughed, yet, I felt that my lips +were stiff and the sound of my voice strange. + +"Every one knows Brighton," I said. "It is not often one meets an +English lady who does not know it." + +She looked at me with the most charming and frank directness. + +"I spent a few hours there once," she said. "From the little I saw of it +I took it for a city of palaces." + +"It is a beautiful place," I said. + +She rose with languid grace and went to the table. + +"I think I will ring for some tea," she said. "I am chill and cold in +spite of the fire. Mr. Ford, will you join me?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +My feelings when I reached my room that night were not to be envied. I +was as firmly convinced of the identity of the woman as I was of the +shining of the sun. There could not be any mistake; I had seen her face +quite plainly in the moonlight, and it had been too deeply impressed on +my mind for me to forget it, or to mistake it for another. Indeed, the +horror of the discovery was still upon me; my nerves were trembling; my +blood was cold. How could it be that my old friend Lance had made so +terrible a mistake? How could I bear to know that the wife whom he +worshiped was a murderess? What else she had been, I did not care even +to think; whose child it was, or why she had drowned it, I could not, +dare not think. + +I could not sleep or rest; my mind and brain were at variance with +themselves. Frances Fleming seemed to me a fair, kind-hearted, loving, +woman, graceful as fair; the woman I had seen on the Chain Pier was a +wild, desperate creature, capable of anything. I could not rest; the +soft bed of eiderdown, the sheets of pure linen perfumed with lavender, +the pillows, soft as though filled with down from the wings of a bird, +could bring no rest to me. + +If this woman were anything but what she seemed to be, if she were +indeed a murderess, how dare she deceive Lance Fleming? Was it right, +just or fair that he should give the love of his honest heart, the +devotion of his life, to a woman who ought to have been branded? I +wished a thousand times over that I had never seen the Chain Pier, or +that I had never come to Dutton Manor House; yet it might be that I was +the humble instrument intended by Providence to bring to light a great +crime. It seemed strange that of all nights in the year I should have +chosen that one; it seemed strange that after keeping the woman's face +living in my memory for so long I should so suddenly meet it in life. +There was something more than mere coincidence in this; yet it seemed a +horrible thing to do, to come under the roof of my dearest friend and +ruin his happiness forever. + +Then the question came--was it not better for him to know the truth than +to live in a fool's paradise--to take to his heart a murderess--to live +befooled and die deceived? My heart rose in hot indignation against the +woman who had blighted his life, who would bring home to him such shame +and anguish as must tear his heart and drive him mad. + +I could not suppose, for one moment, that I was the only one in the +world who knew her secret--there must be others, and, meeting her +suddenly, one of these might betray her secret, might do her greater +harm and more mischief than I could do. After hours of weary thought, I +came to this conclusion, that I must find out first of all whether my +suspicions were correct or not. That was evidently my first duty. I must +know whether there was any truth in my suspicions or not. I hated myself +for the task that lay before me, to watch a woman, to seek to entrap +her, to play the detective, to seek to discover the secret of one who +had so frankly and cordially offered me friendship. + +Yet it was equally hateful to know that a bad and wicked woman, branded +with sin, stained with murder, had deceived an honest, loyal man like +Lance Fleming. Look which way I would, it was a most cruel +dilemma--pity, indignation, wonder, fear, reluctance, all tore at my +heart. Was Frances Fleming the good, pure, tender-hearted woman she +seemed to be, or was she the woman branded with a secret brand? I must +find out for Lance's sake. There were times when intense pity softened +my heart, almost moved me to tears; then the recollection of the tiny +white baby lying all night in the sea, swaying to and fro with the +waves, steeled me. I could see again the pure little waxen face, as the +kindly woman kissed it on the pier. I could see the little green grave +with the shining cross--"Marah, found drowned," and here beside me, +talking to me, tending me with gentle solicitude, was the very woman, I +feared, who had drowned the child. There were times--I remember one +particularly--when she held out a bunch of fine hothouse grapes to me, +that I could have cried out--"It is the hand of a murderess; take it +away," but I restrained myself. + +I declare that, during a whole fortnight, I watched her incessantly; I +scrutinized every look, every gesture; I criticised every word, and in +neither one nor the other did I find the least shadow of blame. She +seemed to me pure in heart, thought and word. At times, when she read or +sang to us, there was a light such as one fancies the angels wear. Then +I found also what Lance said of her charity to the poor was perfectly +true--they worshipped her. No saint was a greater saint to them than the +woman whom I believed I had seen drown a little child. + +It seemed as though she could hardly do enough for them; the minute she +heard that any one was sick or sorry she went to their aid. I have known +this beautiful woman, whose husband adored her, give up a ball or a +party to sit with some poor woman whose child was ill, or was ill +herself. And I must speak, too, of her devotion--to see the earnest, +tender piety on her beautiful face was marvelous. + +"Look, John," Lance would whisper to me; "my wife looks like an angel." + +I was obliged to own that she did. But what was the soul like that +animated the beautiful body? + +When we were talking--and we spent many hours together in the garden--I +was struck with the beauty and nobility of her ideas. She took the right +side of everything; her wisdom was full of tenderness; she never once +gave utterance to a thought or sentence but that I was both pleased and +struck with it. But for this haunting suspicion I should have pronounced +her a perfect woman, for I could see no fault in her. I had been a +fortnight at Dutton Manor, and but for this it would have been a very +happy fortnight. Lance and I had fallen into old loving terms of +intimacy, and Frances made a most lovable and harmonious third. A whole +fortnight I had studied her, criticised her, and was more bewildered +than ever--more sure of two things: The first was that it was next to +impossible that she had ever been anything different to what she was +now; the second, that she must be the woman I had seen on the pier. +What, under those circumstances, was any man to do? + +No single incident had happened to interrupt the tranquil course of +life, but from day to day I grew more wretched with the weight of my +miserable secret. + +One afternoon, I remember that the lilacs were all in bloom, and Lance +sat with his beautiful wife where a great group of trees stood. When I +reached them they were speaking of the sea. + +"I always long for the sea in summertime," said Lance; "when the sun is +hot and the air full of dust, and no trees give shade, and the grass +seems burned, I long for the sea. Love of water seems almost mania with +me, from the deep blue ocean, with its foaming billows, to the smallest +pool hidden in a wood. It is strange, Frances, with your beauty-loving +soul, that you dislike the sea." + +She had gathered a spray of the beautiful lilac and held it to her lips. +Was it the shade of the flower, or did the color leave her face? If so, +it was the first time I had seen it change. + +"Do you really dislike the sea, Mrs. Fleming?" I asked. + +"Yes," she replied, laconically. + +"Why?" I asked again. + +"I cannot tell," she answered. "It must be on the old principle-- + + "'I do not like thee, Doctor Fell, + The reason why--I cannot tell! + But only this I know full well, + I do not like thee, Doctor Fell!'" + + +"Those lines hardly apply to the sea," I said. "I thought love for the +sea was inborn with every man and woman in England." + +"It is not with me," she said. + +She spoke quite gently. There was not the least hurry or confusion, but +I was quite sure the color had faded from her face. Was it possible that +I had found a hole the strong armor at last? + +Lance turned a laughing face to me. + +"My wife is as strong in her dislikes as in her likes," he said. "She +never will go to the sea. Last year I spent a whole month in trying to +persuade her; this year I have begun in good time, and I intend to give +it three months' good trial, but I am afraid it will be quite in vain." + +"Why do you dislike the sea?" I repeated. "You must have a reason." + +"I think," she replied, "it makes me melancholy and low spirited." + +"Well it might!" I thought, for the rush and fall of the waves must be +like a vast requiem to her. + +"That is not the effect the sea has upon most people," I said. + +"No, I suppose not; it has upon me," she answered. Then smiling at me as +she went on: "You seem to think it is my fault, Mr. Ford, that I do not +love the sea." + +"It is your misfortune," I replied, and our eyes met. + +I meant nothing by the words, but a shifting, curious look came into her +face, and for the first time since I had been there her eyes fell before +mine. + +"I suppose it is," she said, quietly; but from the moment we were never +quite the same again. She watched me curiously, and I knew it. + +"Like or dislike, Frances, give way this time," said Lance, "and John +will go with us." + +"Do you really wish it?" she asked. + +"I should like it; I think it would do us all good. And, after all, +yours is but a fancy, Frances." + +"If we go at all," she said, "let us go to the great Northern sea, not +to the South, where it is smiling and treacherous." + +"Those southern seas hide much," I said; and again she looked at me with +a curious, intent gaze--a far-off gaze, as though she were trying to +make something out. + +"What do they hide, John?" asked Lance, indifferently. + +"Sharp rocks and shifting sands," I answered. + +"So do the Northern seas," he replied. + +A soft, sweet voice said: "Every one has his own taste. I love the +country; you love the sea. I find more beauty in this bunch of lilac +than I should in all the seaweed that was ever thrown on the beach; to +me there is more poetry and more loveliness in the ripple of the leaves, +the changeful hues of the trees and flowers, the corn in the fields, the +fruit in the orchards, than in the perpetual monotony of the sea." + +"That is not fair, Frances," cried Lance. "Say what you will, but never +call the sea monotonous--it is never that; it always gives on the +impression of power and majesty." + +"And of mystery," I interrupted. + +"Of mystery," she repeated, and the words seemed forced from her in +spite of herself. + +"Yes, of mystery!" I said. "Think what is buried in the sea! Think of +the vessels that have sank laden with human beings! No one will know +one-third of the mysteries of the sea until the day when she gives up +the dead." + +The spray of lilac fell to the ground. She rose quickly and made no +attempt to regain it. + +"It is growing chilly," she said; "I will go into the house." + +"A strange thing that my wife does not like the sea," said Lance. + +But it was not strange to my mind--not strange at all. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +My suspicion, from that time, I felt was a truth. I knew that there were +characters so complex that no human being could understand them. Here +was a beautiful surface--Heaven only knew what lay underneath. There was +no outward brand of murder on the white brow, or red stain on the soft, +white hand. But day by day the certainty grew in my mind. Another thing +struck me very much. We were sitting one day quite alone on the grass +near a pretty little pool of water, called "Dutton Pool." In some parts +it was very shallow, in some very deep. Lance had gone somewhere on +business, and had left us to entertain each other. I had often noticed +that one of Mrs. Fleming's favorite ornaments was a golden locket with +one fine diamond in the center; she wore it suspended by a small chain +from her neck. As she sat talking to me she was playing with the chain, +when it suddenly became unfastened and the locket fell from it. In less +than a second it was hidden in the long grass. She looked for it in +silence for some minutes, then she said, gently: + +"I have dropped my locket, Mr. Ford; is it near you? I cannot find it." + +"Is it one you prize very much?" I asked. + +"I should not like to lose it," she replied, and her face paled as +searching in the long grass she saw nothing of it. + +I found it in a few minutes, but it was lying open; the fall had +loosened the spring. I could not help seeing the contents as I gave it +to her--a round ring of pale golden hair. + +"A baby's curl?" I said, as I returned it to her. + +Her whole face went blood-red in one minute. + +"The only thing I have belonging to my little sister," she said. "She +died when I was a child." + +"You must prize it," I said; but I could not keep the dryness of +suspicion from my voice. + +"Mrs. Fleming," I asked, suddenly, "are you like Lance and myself, +without relations?" + +"Almost," she replied, briefly. + +"Strange that three people should be almost alone in the world but for +each other!" I said. + +"I was left an orphan when I was four years old," she said. "Only Heaven +knows how I have cried out upon my parents for leaving me. I never had +one happy hour. Can you imagine a whole childhood passed without one +happy hour?" + +"Hardly," I said. + +With white, nervous fingers she fastened the gold chain round her neck +again. + +"Not one happy hour," she said. "I was left under the care of my +grandmother, a proud, cold, cruel woman, who never said a kind word to +me, and who grudged me every slice of bread and butter I ate." + +She looked at me, still holding the golden locket in her white fingers. + +"If I had been like other girls," she said "if I had parents to love me, +brothers and sisters, friends or relatives, I should have been +different. Believe me, Mr. Ford, there are white slaves in England whose +slavery is worse than that of an African child. I was one of them. I +think of my youth with a sick shudder; I think of my childhood with +horror, and I almost thank Heaven that the tyrant is dead who blighted +my life." + +Now the real woman was breaking through the mask; her face flushed; her +eyes shone. + +"I often talk to Lance about it," she said, "this terrible childhood of +mine. I was punished for the least offence. I never heard a word of pity +or affection. I never saw a look of anything but hate on my +grandmother's face. No one was ever pitiful to me; fierce words, fierce +blows, complaints of the burden I was; that was all my mother's mother +ever gave to me. I need not say that I hated her, and learned to loathe +the life I fain would have laid down. Do I tire you, Mr. Ford?" + +"On the contrary, I am deeply interested," I replied. + +She went on: + +"My grandmother was not poor; she was greedy. She had a good income +which died with her, and she strongly objected to spend it on me. She +paid for my education on the condition that when I could get my own +living by teaching I should repay her. Thank Heaven, I did so!" + +"Then you were a governess?" I said. + +"Yes; I began to get my own living at fifteen. I was tall for my age, +and quite capable," she said; "but fifteen is very young, Mr. Ford, for +a girl to be thrown on to the world." + +"You must have been a very beautiful girl," I said. + +"Yes, so much the worse for me." She seemed to repent of the words as +soon as they were uttered. + +"I mean," she added, quickly, "that my grandmother hated me the more for +it." + +There was silence between us for some minutes, then she added: + +"You may imagine, after such an unloved life, how I love Lance." + +"He is the best fellow in the world," I said, "and the woman who could +deceive him ought to be shot." + +"What woman would deceive him?" she asked. "Indeed, for matter of that, +what woman could? I am his wife!" + +"It happens very often," I said, trying to speak carelessly, "that good +and loyal men like Lance are the most easily deceived." + +"It should not be so," she said. She was startled again, I saw it in her +face. + +That same afternoon we drove into Vale Royal. Mrs. Fleming had several +poor people whom she wished to see, and some shopping to do. + +"You should take your locket to a jeweler's," I said, "and have the +spring secured." + +"What locket is that?" asked Lance, looking up eagerly from his paper. + +"Mine," she replied--"this." She held it out for his inspection. "I +nearly lost it this morning," she said; "it fell from my neck." + +"Is it the one that holds your sister's hair?" he asked. + +"Yes," she replied, opening it and holding it out for him to see. + +What nerve she had, if this was what I imagined, the hair of the little +dead child. Loving Lance rose from his chair and kissed her. + +"You would not like to lose that, my darling, would you?" he said, +"Excepting me, that is all you have in the world." + +They seemed to forget all about me; she clung to him, and he kissed her +face until I thought he would never give over. + +"How lovely you were when I found you, Frances," he said. "Do you +remember the evening--you were bending over the crysanthemums?" + +"I shall forget my own life and my own soul before I forget that," she +replied. + +And I said to myself: "Even if my suspicion be perfectly true, have I +any right to mar such love as that?" I noticed that during all the +conversation about the locket, she never once looked at me. + +We went to Vale Royal, and there never was man so bewildered as I. Lance +proposed that we should go visiting with Mrs. Fleming. + +"Get your purse ready, John," he said--"this visit will require a small +fortune." + +"I find the poor value kind words as much as money," said the beautiful +woman. + +"Then they must be very disinterested," he said, laughingly--"I should +prefer money." + +"You are only jesting," she said. + +It was a pretty sight to see her go into those poor, little, dirty +houses. There was no pride, no patronage, no condescension--she was +simply sweetly natural; she listened to their complaints, gave them +comfort and relieved their wants. As I watched her I could not help +thinking to myself that if I were a fashionable or titled lady, this +would be my favorite relaxation--visiting and relieving the poor. I +never saw so much happiness purchased by a few pounds. We came to a +little cottage that stood by itself in a garden. + +"Are you growing tired?" she asked of her husband. + +"I never tire with you," he replied. + +"And you, Mr. Ford?" she said. + +She never overlooked or forgot me, but studied my comfort on every +occasion. I could have told her that I was watching what was to me a +perfect problem--the kindly, gentle, pitying deeds of a woman, who had, +I believed, murdered her own child. + +"I am not tired, Mrs. Fleming, I am interested," I said. + +The little cottage which stood in the midst of a wild patch of garden +was inhabited by a day-laborer. He was away at work; his wife sat at +home nursing a little babe, a small, fair, tiny child, evidently not +more than three weeks old, dying, too, if one could judge from the face. + +She bent over it--the beautiful, graceful woman who was Lance's wife. +Ah, Heaven! the change that came over her, the passion of mother love +that came into her face; she was transformed. + +"Let me hold the little one for you," she said, "while you rest for a +few minutes;" and the poor, young mother gratefully accepted the offer. + +What a picture she made in the gloomy room of the little cottage, her +beautiful face and shining hair, her dress sweeping the ground, and the +tiny child lying in her arms. + +"Does it suffer much?" she asked, in her sweet, compassionate voice. + +"It did, ma'am," replied the mother, "but I have given it something to +keep it quiet." + +"Do you mean to say that you have drugged it?" asked Mrs. Fleming. + +"Only a little cordial, ma'am, nothing more; it keeps it sleeping; and +when it sleeps it does not suffer." + +She shook her beautiful head. + +"It is a bad practice," she said; "more babes are killed by drugs than +die a natural death." + +I was determined she should look at me; I stepped forward and touched +the child's face. + +"Do you not think it is merciful at times to give a child like this +drugs when it has to die; to lessen the pain of death--to keep it from +crying out?" + +Ah, me, that startled fear that leaped into her eyes, the sudden quiver +on the beautiful face. + +"I do not know," she said; "I do not understand such things." + +"What can it matter," I said, "whether a little child like this dies +conscious or not? It cannot pray--it must go straight to Heaven! Do you +not think anyone who loved it, and had to see it die, would think it +greatest kindness to drug it?" + +My eyes held hers; I would not lose their glance; she could not take +them away. I saw the fear leap into them, then die away; she was saying +to herself, what could I know? + +But I knew. I remembered what the doctor said in Brighton when the +inquest was held on the tiny white body, "that it had been mercifully +drugged before it was drowned." + +"I cannot tell," she replied, with a gentle shake of the head. "I only +know that unfortunately the poor people use these kind of cordials too +readily. I should not like to decide whether in a case like this it is +true kindness or not." + +"What a pretty child, Mr. Ford; what a pity that it must die!" + +Could it be that she who bent with such loving care over this little +stranger, who touched its tiny face with her delicate lips, who held it +cradled in her soft arms, was the same desperate woman who had thrown +her child into the sea? + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Mrs. Fleming was not at her ease with me. I found her several times +watching me with a curious, intent gaze, seeking, as it were, to pierce +my thoughts, to dive into my motives, but always puzzled--even as I was +puzzled over her. That round of visiting made me more loath than ever to +believe that I was right. Such gentle thought and care, such +consideration, such real charity, I had never seen before. I was not +surprised when Lance told me that she was considered quite an angel by +the poor. I fell ill with anxiety. I never knew what to say or think. + +I did what many others in dire perplexity do, I went to one older, wiser +and better than myself, a white-haired old minister, whom I had known +for many years, and in whom I had implicit trust. I mentioned no names, +but I told him the story. + +He was a kind-hearted, compassionate man, but he decided that the +husband should be told. + +Such a woman, he said, must have unnatural qualities; could not possibly +be one fitted for any man to trust. She might be insane. She might be +subject to mania--a thousand things might occur which made it, he +thought, quite imperative that such a secret should not be withheld from +her husband. + +Others had had a share in it, and there was no doubt but that it would +eventually become known; better hear it from the lips of a friend than +from the lips of a foe. + +"Perhaps," he advised, "it might be as well for you to speak to her +first; it would give her a fair chance." + +If it were not true, she could deny it, although if she proved to be +innocent, and I had made a mistake, I deserved what I should no doubt +get; if she were guilty and owned it, she would have some warning at +least. That seemed to me the best plan, if I could speak to her; break +it to her in some way or other. + +A few more days passed. If any doubt was left in my mind, what happened +one morning at breakfast would have satisfied me. Lance had taken up the +paper. I was reading some letters, and Mrs. Fleming making tea. + +Lance looked suddenly from his paper. + +"I used to think drink was the greatest curse in England," he said. + +"Have you changed your opinion?" I asked. + +"I have. I think now the crying sin of the country is child-murder." + +As he uttered the words his wife was just in the act of pouring some +cream into my cup; it did not surprise me that the pretty silver jug and +the cream all fell together. Lance laughed aloud. + +"Why, Frances," he cried; "I have never seen you do such a clumsy thing +before." + +She was deadly pale, her hand shaking. + +"I have frightened myself," she said, "and no wonder with such a noise." + +A servant came, who made everything right. + +Then Lance continued, "You interrupted me, Frances. I was just saying +that child-murder is one of the greatest blots on the civilization of +the present day." + +"It is such a horrible thing to speak of," she said, feebly. + +"It wants some speaking about," said Lance. "I never take up a paper +without reading one or two cases. I wonder that the Government does not +take it up and issue some decree or other. It is a blot on the face of +the land." + +"I do not suppose that any decree of Government would change it," I +said; "the evil lies too deeply for that; the law should be made equal; +as it is, the whole blame, shame and punishment fall on the woman, while +the man goes free; there will be no change for the better while that is +the case. I have not patience to think of the irregularity of the law." + +"You are right, John," said my old friend. "Still, cruelty in a woman is +so horrible, and the woman must be as cruel as a demon who deserts or +slays her own child. If I had my own way, I would hang every one who +does it; there would soon be an end of it then." + +There was a low startled cry, and the paper fell to the ground. Mrs. +Fleming rose from her chair with a ghastly face. + +"Frances!" cried her husband, "what is the matter?" + +"You will talk of such horrible things," she replied, vehemently, "and +you know that I cannot bear them." + +"Sweetheart," he whispered, as he kissed her, "I will be more careful. I +know a sensitive heart like yours cannot bear the knowledge of such +things. You must forgive me, Frances, but to me there is something far +more loathing in the woman who kills a child than in the woman who slays +a man. Do not look so pale and grieved, my darling! John, we must be +more careful what we say." + +"I must beg you to remember that you began the subject, Lance." + +"I am ashamed of making such a fuss," she continued, "but there are some +subjects too horrible even to dwell upon or speak of, and that is one. I +am going into the garden, Lance; perhaps you and Mr. Ford would like +your cigars there? I am going to prune a favorite rose tree that is +growing wild." + +"Do you understand pruning, Mrs. Fleming?" I asked. + +"Such small things as rose trees," she said. + +"We will follow you, Frances," said her husband. "My case is empty; I +must get some more cigars." + +I fancied that she was unwilling to leave us together. She lingered a +few minutes, then went out. Then simple, honest Lance turned to me with +his face full of animation. + +"John, did you ever see such a tender-hearted woman in all your life? +She is almost too sensitive." + +My suspicions were certainties now, and my mind was more than ever +tossed and whirled in tortured doubt and dread. I shall never forget one +evening that came soon afterwards. We went to dine with a friend of +Lance's, a Squire Peyton, who lived not far away, and he was the +possessor of some very fine pictures, of which he was very proud. He +took us through his pretty arranged gallery. + +"This is my last purchase," he said. + +We all three stopped to look at a large square picture representing the +mother of the little Moses placing his cradle of rushes amongst the tall +reeds in the water. + +I saw Mrs. Fleming look at it with eyes that were wet with tears. + +"Does it sadden you?" asked Lance. "It need not; the little one looks +young and tender to be left alone, but the water is silent and the +mother is near. She never left him. What a pretty story of mother-love +it is." + +The beautiful face paled, the lips trembled slightly. + +"It is a beautiful picture," she said, "to come from that land of +darkness; it makes something of the poetry of the Nile." + +Watching her, I said to myself, "That woman has not deadened her +conscience; she has tried and failed. There is more good than evil in +her." + +All night long there sounded in my ears those words, "A life for a +life!" And I wondered what would, what could, be the punishment of a +mother who took the life of her own child? + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +This state of things could not last. A shade of fear or mistrust came in +her manner to me. I must repeat, even at the risk of being wearisome, +that I think no man was ever in such a painful position. Had it not been +for my fore-knowledge, I should have loved Mrs. Fleming for her beauty, +her goodness and her devotion to my dear old friend. I could not bear to +tell him the truth, nor could I bear that he should be so basely and +terribly deceived--that he should be living with and loving one whom I +knew to be a murderess. So I waited for an opportunity of appealing to +herself, and it came sooner than I had expected. + +One afternoon Lance had to leave us on business; he said he might be +absent some few hours--he was going to Vale Royal. He asked me if I +would take Mrs. Fleming out; she had complained of headache, and he +thought a walk down by the river might be good for her. I promised to do +so, and then I knew the time for speaking to her had come. + +I cannot tell how it was that our walk was delayed until the gloaming, +and then we went at once to the river, for no other reason that I can +see, except that Lance had wished us to go there. + +But to my dying day I can never forget the scene. The sky was roseate +with crimson clouds, and golden with gold; the river ran swiftly, +brimming full to the banks; the glow of the sunlight lay on the hills +around, on the green fields, on the distant woods, on the bank where we +stood, on the tall, noble trees, on the wild flowers and blossoms. +Better almost than anything else I remember a great patch of scarlet +poppies that grew in the long green grass; even now, although this took +place a long time ago, the sight of crimson poppy makes my heart ache. +The withered trunk of a fallen tree lay across the river's bank; one end +of it was washed by the stream. Mrs. Fleming sat down upon it and the +scarlet poppies were at her feet. + +"We can see nothing so pretty as the sunset over the river, Mr. Ford," +she said; "let us watch it." + +We sat for some few minutes in silence; the rosy glow from the sky and +the river seemed to fall on her face as she turned it to the water. + +The time had come; I knew that, yet only Heaven knows how I shrank from +the task! I would rather have died, yet my sense of justice urged me on. +Was it fair that Lance Fleming should lavish the whole love of his life +on a murderess? + +"What are you thinking so intently about, Mr. Ford?" she asked me. + +"Shall I tell you?" I asked. + +"Yes, by all means," she replied. "I am sure the subject is very grave, +you look so unhappy." + +Now the time was come! That beautiful face would never look into mine +again. I steeled my heart by thinking of the tiny baby face I had seen +on the wooden bench of the pier--so like hers--the little drowned face! + +"I will tell you of what I am thinking, Mrs. Fleming," I said; "but I +must tell it to you as a story." + +"Do," she said, in a gentle voice, and she gathered the scarlet poppies +as she spoke. + +"There were two friends once upon a time," I began, "who loved each +other with a love deeper and truer than the love of brothers." + +She nodded her head with a charming smile; I saw an expression of great +relief pass over her face. + +"I understand," she said; "as you and Lance love each other, there is +something most beautiful in the love of men." + +"These two spent much time together; their interests were identical, +they shared at that time the same hopes and fears. They were parted for +a time, one was busy with his own affairs, the other, an invalid, went +to Brighton for his health." + +How the smile died away; the sun did not set more surely or more slowly +than that sweet smile of interest died from her lips, but no fear +replaced it at first. + +"The friend who was an invalid went to Brighton, as I have said, for his +health, and either fate or Providence took him one night to the Chain +Pier." + +I did not look at her; I dared not. My eyes wandered over the running +river, where the crimson clouds were reflected like blood; but I heard a +gasping sound as of breath hardly drawn. I went on: + +"The Chain Pier that evening lay in the midst of soft, thick gloom; +there was no sound on it save the low washing of the waves and the +shrill voice of the wind as it played amongst the wooden piles. He sat +silent, absorbed in thought, when suddenly a woman came down the pier--a +tall, beautiful woman, who walked to the end and stood leaning there." + +I saw the scarlet poppies fall from the nerveless hands on the green +grass, but the figure by my side seemed to have suddenly turned to +stone. I dare not look at her. The scene was far greater agony to me, I +almost believe, than to her. I went on: + +"The woman stood there for some short time in silence; then she became +restless, and looked all around to see if anyone were near. + +"Then she walked to the side of the pier. She did not see the dark form +in the corner; she raised something in her arms and dropped it into the +sea." + +There was a sound, but it was like nothing human--it was neither sigh +nor moan, but more pitiful than either; the poppies lay still on the +grass, and a great hush seemed to have fallen over the river. + +"Into the sea," I repeated, "and the man, as it fell, saw a shawl of +black and gray." + +She tried to spring up, and I knew that her impulse was to rush to the +river. I held her arms, and she remained motionless; the very air around +us seemed to beat with passionate pulse of pain. + +"There was a faint splash in the water," I went on; "it was all over in +less than a second, and then the swift waves rolled on as before. The +woman stood motionless. When she turned to leave the spot the moon shone +full on her face--ghastly, desperate and beautiful--he saw it as +plainly as I see the river here. He heard her as plainly as I hear the +river here. She cried aloud as she went away, 'Oh, my God, if I dare--if +I dare!' Can you tell what happened? Listen how wonderful are the ways +of God, who hates murder and punishes it. She flung the burden into the +sea, feeling sure it would sink; but it caught--the black and gray shawl +caught--on some hooks that had been driven into the outer woodwork of +the pier; it caught and hung there, the shawl moving to and fro with +every breath of wind and every wave." + +Without a word or a cry she fell with her face in the grass. Oh, Heaven, +be pitiful to all who are stricken and guilty! I went on quickly: + +"A boatman found it, and the bundle contained a little drowned child--a +fair waxen babe, beautiful even though it had lain in the salt, bitter +waters of the green sea all night. Now comes the horror, Mrs. Fleming. +When the man, who saw the scene went after some years to visit the +friend whom he loved so dearly, he recognized in that friend's wife the +woman who threw the child into the sea!" + +Again came the sound that was like nothing human. + +"What was that man to do?" I asked. "He could not be silent; the friend +who loved and trusted him must have been most basely deceived--he could +not hide a murder; yet the woman was so lovely, so lovable; she was +seemingly so good, so charitable, so devoted to her husband, that he was +puzzled, tortured; at last he resolved upon telling her. I have told +you." + +Then silence, deep and awful, fell over us; it lasted until I saw that I +must break it. She lay motionless on the ground, her face buried in the +grass. + +"What should you have done in that man's place, Mrs. Fleming?" I asked. + +Then she raised her face; it was whiter, more despairing, more ghastly +than I had seen it on the pier. + +"I knew it must come," she wailed. "Oh, Heaven, how often have I dreaded +this--I knew from the first." + +"Then it was you?" I said. + +"It was me," she replied. "I need not try to hide it any longer, why +should I? Every leaf on every tree, every raindrop that has fallen, +every wind that has whispered has told it aloud ever since. If I hide it +from you someone else will start up and tell. If I deny it, then the +very stones in the street will cry it out. Yes, it was me--wretched, +miserable me--the most miserable, the most guilty woman alive--it was +me." + +My heart went out to her in fullness of pity--poor, unhappy woman! +sobbing her heart out; weeping, as surely no one ever wept before. I +wished that Heaven had made anyone else her judge than me. Then she sat +up facing me, and I wondered what the judge must think when the sentence +of death passes his lips. I knew that this was the sentence of death for +this woman. + +"You never knew what passed after, did you?" I asked. + +"No--not at all," was the half sullen reply--"not at all." + +"Did you never purchase a Brighton paper, or look into a London paper to +see?" + +"No," she replied. + +"Then I will tell you," I said, and I told her all that had passed. How +the people had stood round the little baby, and the men cursed the cruel +hands that had drowned the little babe. + +"Did they curse my hands?" she asked, and I saw her looking at them in +wonder. + +"Yes; the men said hard words, but the women were pitiful and kind; one +kissed the little face, dried it, and kissed it with tears in her eyes. +Was it your own child?" + +There was a long pause, a long silence, a terrible few minutes, and then +she answered: + +"Yes, it was my child!" + +Her voice was full of despair; she folded her hands and laid them on her +lap. + +"I knew it must come," she said. "Now, let me try to think what I must +do. I meet now that which I have dreaded so long. Oh, Lance! my love, +Lance! my love, Lance! You will not tell him?" she cried, turning to me +with impassioned appeal. "You will not!--you could not break his heart +and mine!--you could not kill me! Oh, for Heaven's sake, say you will +not tell him?" + +Then I found her on her knees at my feet, sobbing passionate cries--I +must not tell him, it would kill him, She must go away, if I said she +must; she would go from the heart and the home where she had nestled in +safety so long; she would die; she would do anything, if only I would +not tell him. He had loved and trusted her so--she loved him so dearly. +I must not tell. If I liked, she would go to the river and throw herself +in. She would give her life freely, gladly--if only I would not tell +him. + +So I sat holding, as it were, the passionate, aching heart in my hand. + +"You must calm yourself," I said. "Let us talk reasonably. We cannot +talk while you are like this." + +She beat her white hands together, and I could not still her cries; they +were all for "Lance!"--"her love, Lance!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +"You must listen to me," I said; "I want you to see how truly this is +the work of Providence, and not of mere chance." + +I told her how I often had been attracted to the pier; I told her all +that was said by the crowd around; of the man who carried the little +dead child to the work-house; of the tiny little body that lay in its +white dress in the bare, large, desolate room, and of the flowers that +the kindly matron had covered it with. + +I told her how I had taken compassion on the forlorn little creature, +had purchased its grave, and of the white stone with "Marah" upon it. + +"Marah, found drowned." And then, poor soul--poor, hapless soul, she +clung to my hands and covered them with kisses and tears. + +"Did you--did you do that?" she moaned. "How good you are, but you will +not tell him. I was mad when I did that, mad as women often are, with +sorrow, shame and despair. I will suffer anything if you will only +promise not to tell Lance." + +"Do you think it is fair," I asked, "that he should be so cruelly +deceived?--that he should lavish the whole love of his heart upon a +murderess?" + +I shall not forget her. She sprang from the ground where she had been +kneeling and stood erect before me. + +"No, thank Heaven! I am not that," she said; "I am everything else that +is base and vile, but not that." + +"You were that, indeed," I replied. "The child you flung into the sea +was living, not dead." + +"It was not living," she cried--"it was dead an hour before I reached +there." + +"The doctors said--for there was an inquest on the tiny body--they said +the child had been drugged before it was drowned, but that it had died +from drowning." + +"Oh, no, a thousand times!" she cried. "Oh, believe me, I did not +wilfully murder my own child--I did not, indeed! Let me tell you. You +are a just and merciful man, John Ford; let me tell you--you must hear +my story; you shall give me my sentence--I will leave it in your hands. +I will tell you all." + +"You had better tell Lance, not me," I cried. "What can I do?" + +"No; you listen; you judge. It may be that when you have heard all, you +will take pity on me; you may spare me--you may say to yourself that I +have been more sinned against than sinning--you may think that I have +suffered enough, and that I may live out the rest of my life with Lance. +Let me tell you, and you shall judge me." + +She fell over on her knees again, rocking backwards and forwards. + +"Ah, why," she cried--"why is the world so unfair?--why, when there is +sin and sorrow, why does the punishment fall all on the woman, and the +man go free? I am here in disgrace and humiliation, in shame and +sorrow--in fear of losing my home, my husband, it may even be my +life--while he, who was a thousand times more guilty than I was, is +welcomed, flattered, courted! It is cruel and unjust. + +"I have told you," she said, "how hard my childhood was, how lonely and +desolate and miserable I was with my girl's heart full of love and no +one to love. + +"When I was eighteen I went to live with a very wealthy family in +London, the name--I will not hide one detail from you--the name was +Cleveland; they had one little girl, and I was her governess. I went +with them to their place in the country, and there a visitor came to +them, a handsome young nobleman, Lord Dacius by name. + +"It was a beautiful sunlit county. I had little to do, plenty of +leisure, and he could do as he would with his time. We had met and had +fallen in love with each other. I did not love him, I idolized him; +remember in your judgment that no one had ever loved me. No one had ever +kissed my face and said kind words to me; and I, oh! wretched, miserable +me, I was in Heaven. To be loved for the first time, and by one so +handsome, so charming, so fascinating! A few weeks passed like a dream. +I met him in the early morning, I met him in the gloaming. He swore a +hundred times each day that he would marry me when he came of age. We +must wait until then. I never dreamed of harm or wrong, I believed in +him implicitly, as I loved him. I believe every word that came from his +lips. May Heaven spare me! I need tell you no more. A girl of eighteen +madly, passionately in love; a girl as ignorant as any girl could be, +and a handsome, experienced man of the world. + +"There was no hope, no chance. I fell; yet almost without knowing how I +had fallen. You will spare me the rest, I know. + +"When in my sore anguish and distress, I went to him, I thought he would +marry me at once; I thought he would be longing only to make me happy +again; to comfort me; to solace me; to make amends for all I had +suffered. I went to him in London with my heart full of longing and +love. I had left my situation, and my stern, cruel grandmother believed +that I had found another. If I lived to be a thousand years old I should +never forget my horror and surprise. He had worshipped me; he had sworn +a thousand times over that he would marry me; he had loved me with the +tenderest love. + +"Now, when after waiting some hours, I saw him last, he frowned at me; +there was no kiss, no caress, no welcome. + +"'This is a nice piece of news,' he said. 'This comes of country +visiting.' + +"'But you love me?--you love me?' I cried. + +"'I did, my dear,' he said, 'but, of course, that died with Summer. One +does not speak of what is dead.' + +"'Do you not mean to marry me?' I asked. + +"'No, certainly not; and you know that I never did. It was a Summer's +amusement.' + +"'And what is it to me?' I asked. + +"'Oh, you must make the best of it. Of course, I will not see you want, +but you must not annoy me. And that old grandmother of yours, she must +not be let loose upon me. You must do the best you can. I will give you +a hundred pounds if you will promise not to come near me again.' + +"I spoke no word to him; I did not reproach him; I did not utter his +name; I did not say good-bye to him; I walked away. I leave his +punishment to Heaven. Then I crushed the anguish within me and tried to +look my life in the face. I would have killed myself rather than have +gone home. My grandmother had forced me to be saving, and in the +postoffice bank I had nearly thirty pounds. I had a watch and chain +worth ten. I sold them, and I sold with them a small diamond ring that +had been my mother's, and some other jewelry; altogether I realized +fifty pounds. I went to the outskirts of London and took two small +rooms. + +"I remember that I made no effort to hide my disgrace; I did not pretend +to be married or to be a widow, and the mistress of the house was not +unkind to me. She liked me all the better for telling the truth. I say +no word to you of my mental anguish--no words can describe it, but I +loved the little one. She was only three weeks old when a letter was +forwarded to me at the address I had given in London, saying that my +grandmother was ill and wished me to go home at once. What was I to do +with the baby? I can remember how the great drops of anguish stood on +my face, how my hands trembled, how my very heart went cold with dread. + +"The newspapers which I took daily, to read the advertisements for +governesses, lay upon the table, and my eyes were caught by an +advertisement from some woman living at Brighton, who undertook the +bringing up of children. I resolved to go down that very day. I said +nothing to my landlady of my intention. I merely told her that I was +going to place the little one in very good hands, and that I would +return for my luggage. + +"I meant--so truly as Heaven hears me speak--I meant to do right by the +little child. I meant to work hard to keep her in a nice home. Oh, I +meant well! + +"I was ashamed to go out in the streets with a little baby in my arms. + +"'What shall I do if it cries?' I asked the kindly landlady. 'You can +prevent it from crying,' she said; 'give it some cordial.' 'What +cordial?' I asked, and she told me. 'Will it hurt the little one?' I +asked again, and she laughed. + +"'No,' she replied, 'certainly not. Half the mothers in London give it +to their children. It sends them into a sound sleep, and they wake up +none the worse for it. If you give the baby just a little it will sleep +all the way to Brighton, and you will have no trouble.' I must say this +much for myself, that I knew nothing whatever of children, that is, of +such little children. I had never been where there was a baby so little +as my own. + +"I bought the cordial, and just before I started gave the baby some. I +thought that I was very careful. I meant to be so. I would not for the +whole world have given my baby one half-drop too much. + +"It soon slept a calm, placid sleep, and I noticed that the little face +grew paler. 'Your baby is dying,' said a woman, who was traveling in the +third-class carriage with me. 'It is dying, I am sure.' I laughed and +cried; it was so utterly impossible, I thought; it was well and smiling +only one hour ago. I never remembered the cordial. Afterwards, when I +came to make inquiries, I found that I had given her too much. I need +not linger on details. + +"You see, that if my little one died by my fault, it was most +unconscious on my part; it was most innocently, most ignorantly done. I +make no excuse. I tell you the plain truth as it stands. I caused my +baby's death, but it was most innocently done; I would have given my own +life to have brought hers back. You, my judge, can you imagine any fate +more terrible than standing quite alone on the Brighton platform with a +dead child in my arms? + +"I had very little money. I knew no soul in the place. I had no more +idea what to do with a dead child than a baby would have had. I call it +dead," she continued, "for I believe it to have been dead, no matter +what any doctor says. It was cold--oh, my Heaven, how cold!--lifeless; +no breath passed the little lips! the eyes were closed--the pretty hand +stiff. I believed it dead. I wandered down to the beach and sat down on +the stones. + +"What was I to do with this sweet, cold body? I cried until I was almost +blind; in the whole wide world there was no one so utterly desolate and +wretched. I cried aloud to Heaven to help me--where should I bury my +little child? I cannot tell how the idea first occurred to me. The waves +came in with a soft, murmuring melody, a sweet, silvery hush, and I +thought the deep, green sea would make a grave for my little one. It was +mad and wicked I know now; I can see how horrible it was; it did not +seem to be so then. I only thought of the sea then as my best friend, +the place where I was to hide the beloved little body, the clear, green +grave where she was to sleep until the Judgment Day. I waited until--it +is a horrible thing to tell you! but I fell asleep--fast asleep, and of +all the horrors in my story, the worst part is that, sitting by the sea, +fast asleep myself, with my little, dead babe on my knee. + +"When I awoke the tide was coming in full and soft, and swift-running +waves, the sun had set, and a thick, soft gloom had fallen over +everything, and then I knew the time had come for what I wanted to do." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +"I went on to the Chain Pier. I had kissed the little face for the last +time; I had wrapped the pretty white body in the black-and-gray shawl. I +said all the prayers I could remember as I walked along the pier; it was +the most solemn of burial services to me. + +"I went to the side of the pier--I cannot understand how it was that I +did not see you--I stood there some few minutes, and then I took the +little bundle; I raised it gently and let it fall into the sea. But my +baby was dead--I swear to that. Oh, Heaven! if I dared--if I dared fling +myself in the same green, briny waves! + +"I was mad with anguish. I went back to my lodging; the landlady asked +me if I had left the baby in Brighton, and I answered 'Yes.' I do not +know how the days went on--I could not tell you; I was never myself, nor +do I remember much until some weeks afterward I went home to my +grandmother, who died soon after I reached her. I need not tell you that +afterwards I met Lance, and learned to love him with all my heart. + +"Do not tell him; promise me, I beseech you, for mercy's sake, do not +tell him!" + +"What you have told me," I said, "certainly gives a different aspect to +the whole affair. I will make no promise--I will think it over. I must +have time to decide what is best." + +"You will spare me," she went on. "You see I did no one any harm, wrong +or injury. If I hurt another, then you might deprive me of my husband +and my home; as it is, Lance loves me and I love him. You will not tell +him?" + +"I will think about it," I replied. + +"But I cannot live in this suspense," she cried. "If you will tell him, +tell him this day, this hour." + +"He might forgive you," I said. + +"No, he would not be angry, he would not reproach me, but he would never +look upon my face again." + +"Would it not be better for you to tell him yourself?" I suggested. + +"Oh, no!" she cried, with a shudder. "No, I shall never tell him." + +"I do not say that I shall," I said. "Give me a few days--only a few +days--and I will decide in my mind all about it." + +Then we saw Lance in the distance. + +"There is my husband," she said. "Do I look very ill, Mr. Ford?" + +"You do, indeed; you look ghastly," I said. + +"I will go and meet him," she said. + +The exercise and the fresh air brought some little color to her face +before they met. Still he cried out that I had not taken care of her; +that she was overtired. + +"That is it," she replied. "I have been over-tired all day: I think my +head aches; I have had a strange sensation of dizziness in it, I am +tired--oh, Lance, I am so tired!" + +"I shall not leave you again," said Lance to her, and I fancied he was +not quite pleased with me, and thought I had neglected her. We all three +went home together. Mrs. Fleming did not say much, but she kept up +better than I thought she could have done. I heard her that same evening +express a wish to be driven to Vale Royal on the day following; a young +girl, whom she had been instrumental in saving from ruin, had been +suddenly taken ill, and wanted to see her. + +"My darling," Lance said, "you do not seem to me strong enough. Let me +persuade you to rest tomorrow." + +"I should like to see Rose Winter again before--before I"--then she +stopped abruptly. + +"Before you--what, Frances?" he asked. + +"I mean," she said, "that I should like to see Rose before she grows +worse." + +"I think you ought to rest, but you shall do as you like, Frances; you +always do. I will drive you over myself." + +I saw them start on the following morning, and then I tried to think +over in solitude what it would be best to do. Her story certainly +altered facts very considerably. She was not a murderess, as I had +believed her to be. If the death of the little hapless child was +attributable to an overdose of the cordial, she had certainly not given +it purposely. Could I judge her? + +Yet, an honest, loyal man like Lance ought not to be so cruelly +deceived. I felt sure myself that if she spoke to him--if she told him +her story with the same pathos with which she had told it to me, he +would forgive her--he must forgive her. I could not reconcile it with my +conscience to keep silence, I could not, and I believed that the truth +might be told with safety. So, after long thinking and deliberation, I +came to the conclusion that Lance must know, and that she must tell him +herself. + +It was in the middle of a bright, sunshiny afternoon when they returned. +When Lance brought his wife into the drawing-room he seemed very anxious +over her. + +"Frances does not seem well," he said to me. "Ring the bell, John, and +order some hot tea; she is as cold as death." + +Her eyes met mine, and in them I read the question--"What are you going +to do?" I was struck by her dreadful pallor. + +"Is your head bad again today?" I asked. + +"Yes, it aches very much," she replied. + +The hot tea came, and it seemed to revive her; but after a few minutes +the dreadful shivering came over her again. She stood up. + +"Lance," she said, "I will go to my room, and you must lead me; my head +aches so that I am blind." + +She left her pretty drawing-room, never to re-enter it. The next day at +noon Lance came to me with a sad face. + +"John, my wife is very ill, and I have just heard bad news." + +"What is it, Lance?" I asked. + +"Why, that the girl she went yesterday to see, Rose Winter, is ill with +the most malignant type of small-pox." + +I looked at him in horror. + +"Do you think," I gasped, "that the--that Mrs. Fleming has caught it?" + +"I am quite sure," he replied. "I have just sent for the doctor, and +have telegraphed to the hospital for two nurses. And my old friend," he +added, "I am afraid it is going to be a bad case." + +It was a bad case. I never left him while the suspense lasted; but it +was soon over. She suffered intensely, for the disease was of the most +virulent type. It was soon over. Lance came to me one afternoon, and I +read the verdict in his face. + +"She will die," he said, hoarsely. "They cannot save her," and the day +after that he came to me again with wistful eyes. + +"John," he said, slowly, "my wife is dying, and she wants to see you. +Will you see her?" + +"Most certainly," I replied. + +She smiled when she saw me, and beckoned me to her. Ah, poor soul! her +judgment had indeed been taken from me. She whispered to me: + +"Promise me that you will never tell him. I am dying! he need never know +now. Will you promise me?" + +I promised, and she died! I have kept my promise--Lance Fleming knows +nothing of what I have told you. + +Only Heaven knows how far she sinned or was sinned against. I never see +the sunset, or hear the waves come rolling in, without thinking of the +tragedy on the pier. + + +THE END. + + +[Transcriber's Note: Several typographical errors from the original +edition have been corrected. + +<i>white, slivery foam</i> has been changed to <i>white, silvery foam</i>. + +<i>an entensive park</i> has been changed to <i>an extensive park</i>. + +<i>the magnificent retriver</i> has been changed to <i>the magnificent +retriever</i>. + +<i>a ring of such clear, music</i> has been changed to <i>a ring of such clear +music</i>. + +<i>the breat boughs</i> has been changed to <i>the great boughs</i>. + +<i>come to your own room, John and</i> has been changed to <i>come to your own +room, John, and</i>. + +<i>a supberb picture</i> has been changed to <i>a superb picture</i>. + +<i>it was utterably impossible that my suspicious could be correct</i> has +been changed to <i>it was utterly impossible that my suspicions could be +correct</i>. + +<i>seeming unconciousness</i> has been changed to <i>seeming unconsciousness</i>. + +A missing quotation mark has been added at the end of the line <i>I do not +like thee, Doctor Fell!'</i> + +An extraneous quotation mark has been removed from the sentence +beginning <i>I meant nothing by the words</i>. + +A missing quotation mark has been added to the sentence <i>I will go into +the house."</i> + +A missing quotation has been added to the sentence <i>I am not tired, Mrs. +Fleming, I am interested," I said.</i> + +In the sentence <i>He heard her as plainly as I here the river here</i> +"here" has been changed to "hear". + +An extra comma has been removed from the line <i>my old friend," he +added,, "I am afraid</i>.] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tragedy of the Chain Pier +by Charlotte M. Braeme + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRAGEDY OF THE CHAIN PIER *** + +***** This file should be named 15183.txt or 15183.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/1/8/15183/ + +Produced by Steven desJardins and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/15183.zip b/15183.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e571dca --- /dev/null +++ b/15183.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6abc1e5 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #15183 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/15183) |
