He listened very attentively, stood some time to consider, and then replied there was no coach to be procured within a mile of the place, but that a man should go for one; and that I might make myself easy concerning the young woman (Laura) for she should soon join me. The look and manner of the man did not please me, but the case was urgent, the storm increasing, and I in want of shelter and protection.
I then recollected it would perhaps be safest to write immediately to Grosvenor-Street, to prevent surprise as well as to guard against accidents, and I asked if he could furnish me with a sheet of paper and pen and ink. He answered he feared not, but called a boy, and said to him--"Did not I see you with some writing paper the other day?" The boy answered yes; and he bade him go and fetch it, and bring me the pen and ink.
He then left me, and the boy presently returned, with a sheet of paper, an old ink-bottle, and a very indifferent pen. The boy looked at me earnestly, and then examined the pen, saying it was a very bad one, but he would fetch me a better.
The man who was just gone had told me that n.o.body could be spared, to go as far as I required, in less than an hour at the soonest; I therefore have time to write at length.
I think there can be little doubt but that my Louisa is long before this in Grosvenor-Street. I would not wish Sir Arthur to be informed too suddenly, I will therefore direct to her at a venture; but for fear of accidents will add to the direction--"If Miss Clifton be not there, to be opened and read by Mrs. Clarke."--In the present alarmed state of the family this will ensure its being opened, even if both my good friends should be absent.
Good heaven! What does this mean?--I have just risen to see if the little boy were within call, and find the door is locked upon me!
I have been listening!--I hear stern and loud voices!--I fear I have been very inconsiderate!--I know not what to think!
Where am I?--Oh, Louisa, I am seized with terror! Looking into the table-drawer at which I am sitting, in search of wafers, I have found my own letter; opened, dirtied, and worn! Alas! You know of no such letter!--Again I am addressing myself to the winds!--The very fatal letter in which I mentioned the eight thousand pounds!--Where am I, where am I?--In what is all this to end?
All is lost!--Flight is hopeless!--The very man who headed the ruffians that seized me has just walked into the room, placed himself with his back against the door, surveyed me, satisfied himself who it was, then warily left me, locked the door, and called a man to guard it!--Oh my incautious folly!
I am in the dwelling of demons!--I never heard such horrible oaths!--Surely there is some peculiar mischief working!--The noise increases, with unheard-of blasphemy!
Merciful Heaven! I hear the voice of Frank!--What is doing?--Must I remain here?--Oh misery!----What cries!
LETTER CXXVII
_c.o.ke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_
_London, Dover Street_
All is over, Fairfax!--I am just brought from the scene of blood!--You see this is not my hand-writing--My hand must never write more--But I would employ the little strength I have, in relating "the last scene of this eventful history". My sister is my amanuensis. These surgical meddlers issued their edict that I should not speak; but they found I could be as obstinate as themselves: I would not suffer a probe to be drawn at me till I had written, for when they begin I expect it will soon be over.
I remember I ended my last at the very minute I was about to mount my horse. It was a wintery day. The rain fell in sheets, and the wind roared in my face. My pistols were charged and locked in my pocket.
I rode full speed, but I set off too late! When I approached the madhouse, I heard the most piercing shrieks and cries of murder!--They mingled with the storm, in wild and appalling horror!--I rang violently at the bell!... A ready and an eager hand soon flew to open the gate--It was Anna St. Ives!--A boy shewed her the way--It was her cries and his, mingled with the blasphemies of the wretches above, which I had heard!
Her first word again was murder!--"Fly! Save him, save him!"
I rushed forward--The noise above stairs was dreadful--I blundered and missed the stairs, but the terrified boy had run after me to shew me. I heard two pistols fire as I ascended--The horror that struck my heart was inconceivable!--A fellow armed with a bludgeon was standing to guard the door. My pistols were unlocked and ready: I presented and bade him give way--He instantly obeyed--I made the lock fly and entered!--The first object that struck my sight was Frank, besmeared with blood, a discharged pistol in his hand, defending himself against a fellow aiming blows at him with a bludgeon, Mac Fane hewing at him with a cutla.s.s, and the keeper, who had just been shot, expiring at his feet!
I fired at Mac Fane--My shot took place, though not so effectually but that he turned round, made a stab at me, and pierced the abdomen almost to the spine. But he had met his fate; and the return he made was most welcome!--He fell, and the remaining antagonists of Frank immediately fled.
Frank is living, but dreadfully hacked by the villain Mac Fane. They tell me his life is safe, and that his wounds are deep, but not dangerous. Perhaps they mean to deceive me. If so their folly is extreme, and their pity to me ill placed. I well know I deserve no pity.
With respect to myself, my little knowledge of surgery teaches me that a wound so violent, made with a cutla.s.s in such a part, must be mortal.
But mortality to me is a blessing. To live would indeed be misery.
Torments never yet were imagined equal to those I have for some time endured: but, though I have lived raving, I do not mean to die canting.
Take this last adieu therefore, dear Fairfax, and do not because you once esteemed me endeavour to palliate my errors. Let my letters to you do justice to those I have injured. To have saved his life who once saved mine, is a ray of consolation to that proud swelling heart, which has sometimes delighted to confer, but has always turned averse from the receiving of obligations, I would have been more circ.u.mstantial in my narrative, were it not for the teasing kindness of my sister.
Once more, and everlastingly, adieu!
C. CLIFTON
P.S. ADDED BY LOUISA CLIFTON
As to a friend of my brother, sir, I have taken the liberty to delay sending the letter, till his wound has been examined. The surgeons are divided in their judgment. Two of them affirm the wound is mortal; the third is positive that a cure is possible; especially considering the youth and high courage of the patient, on which he particularly insists. I dare not indulge myself too much in hope: I merely state opinion. Neither dare I speak of my own sensations. Of the worth of a mind like that of Mr. Clifton, you, sir, his friend and correspondent, cannot be ignorant. The past is irrevocable; but hope always smiles on the future. Should he recover--! Resignation becomes us, and time will quickly relieve us from doubt.
L. CLIFTON
LETTER CXXVIII
_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Mrs. Wenbourne_
_Grosvenor-Street_
I return you my sincere thanks, dear madam, for your kind congratulations; and think myself honoured by the great joy you express, at my safety and the deliverance of Mr. Henley. I will not attempt to describe my own feelings; they are inexpressible; but will endeavour to obey your commands, and give you the best account I am able of all that has befallen us.
For this purpose, I inclose the narrative written by Mr. Henley during his confinement; and three letters addressed to my friend, Louisa, but never sent; with a copy of a letter dictated by Mr. Clifton to his friend, Mr. Fairfax. To these be pleased to add the following particulars of what pa.s.sed after Mr. Henley"s narrative breaks off, and the sudden interruption of my third letter by terror. Mr. Henley heard but had no time to write their last consultation. It was the eagerness of the keeper which overcame the reluctance of Mac Fane to the murder, till he should have procured the bond of Mr. Clifton. The keeper was violent: he had bargained with his two men to a.s.sist in the murder, for fifty pounds each; and he told Mac Fane, if he would not consent, they would proceed without him, and he should have no share of the eight thousand pounds.
This argument had its effect: Mac Fane had some doubts relative to the money won of Mr. Clifton; and four thousand pounds was a temptation not to be resisted.
Mr. Henley omitted mentioning a circ.u.mstance that occurred of some moment, because he did not know the meaning of it. Probably they had planned it out of his hearing. The day before the attack, the keeper returned him his watch and purse, with the same sum, but not, as Mr.
Henley thinks, the same pieces, it contained when delivered. The purpose of this, it appears, was to make him believe the keeper a man of his word.
On the morning of the intended murder, previous to the a.s.sault, the keeper came up to Mr. Henley; but not into the room. He talked to him with the usual security of his chains, and proposed that Mr. Henley should deliver up the bank-bills, which the keeper now told him he knew to be in his possession; with a promise that they should be returned, as the watch and purse had been. An artifice so shallow was not likely to impose on Mr. Henley. He had determined how to act, relative to the bank bills, and answered it was true they were in his possession; but that he would not deliver them to the keeping of any other. Immediately after this repulse, the keeper, Mac Fane, and the two attendants ascended.
The keeper (I speak after Mr. Henley) was much the most confident, and seemed chiefly fearful that Mr. Henley should slip by them. He therefore stationed one of his men at the outside of the door, which he ordered him to lock and guard. Himself, Mac Fane, and the other entered the room; the keeper and the man each with a bludgeon, and Mac Fane with a pair of pistols and his cutla.s.s hanging by his side.
Mr. Henley had purposely kept up a good fire, and had the bank bills in his hand. He bade them keep off a moment, as if he wished to parley; and they, desirous of having the bills quietly, remained where they were. Mr. Henley then took the bills one by one, repeating the amount of each to convince them that the whole sum was there, and then suddenly thrust them into the fire. They all rushed forward to save them, and this was the lucky moment on which Mr. Henley seized the two arms of Mac Fane, who, on account of his weapons, was the princ.i.p.al object, and who, intending to fire at him, in the struggle shot the keeper. The other pistol Mr. Henley wrested from him, during which contest it went off, but without doing mischief.
Mac Fane then drew his hanger, and made several cuts at Mr. Henley, who was attacked on the other side by the keeper"s man.
In the heat of this conflict Mr. Clifton arrived; and what then followed, his letter will inform you.
It is necessary I should now say a word of myself, and of the small part which I had in this very dreadful affair. And here I must remind you of the boy, so often mentioned in Mr. Henley"s narrative; for to him, perhaps, we all owe our safety. At least, had it not been for him, Mr. Clifton could not certainly have gained admission.
The poor fellow heard and saw enough to let him understand some strange crime was in agitation. He has great acuteness and sensibility: he looked at me when I first came, in a very significant manner; and would have spoken had he dared.
The door of the room in which I was shut was both locked and bolted; but the man that was set to guard it was wanted, for a more blood-thirsty purpose.
I need not inform you how much my fears were alarmed, the moment I found myself in the custody of the man by whom I had at first been seized. But how infinitely was my terror increased when I heard the voice of Frank, which I did very distinctly, and presently afterward of the horror about to be committed! My shrieks were incessant! The poor boy heard them, and though shrieking with terror almost as violent as my own, yet had the presence of mind to come and set me free.
Mr. Clifton"s ringing was heard at the same moment. The top bolt of the gate was high, and I opened it with difficulty; but despair lent me force. It certainly could not have been opened time enough by the boy.
Of this and the following scene, and of the agonizing sensations that accompanied them, I will attempt no further description. I will now only relate by what means, and whose aid, we left this house of horror.