The Dorset County Express and Agricultural Gazette.
Dorchester, Dorset, England, 1867-12-24 00:00:00

MY ECCENTRIC TAMER'S HORRIBLE
STORY.

We entered into possession of our cottage at
Hampstead, and then came our lodger, through the
ready intervention of the Times, in the shape of a
lady, and a singular one. We took her to be
about fifty years of age. She was • tall fine
woman, but distinguished unpleasantly by remark'
able rigidity in her movements. Her step was slow,
measured, and dull, and as she trod her foot never
seemed to leave the floor. There was no rebound,
no pliant") in her gait, which seemed rather that of
a statue on wheels than of a creature throbbing with
the pulses of life. Her hair was thick, but entirely
gray; she arranged it simply and neatly, without
ornameet and without cap, but also with a total
absence of style. Her Laos was ashy pale and deeply
lined. She came late at night in a cab, and my one
servant remarked to me how curious it was that
she, being evidently a lady, rode outside next the
driver. I thought it very extraordinary, but the
fact soon glided out of my memory as too trival to
retain a place in at. When l say "glided out of my
memory," lam using an incorrect expression. It
rather slid into some remote unused corner, to be
farbished out again at any distant time, like the
present, when it might be wanted as one of the
small coloured bits that tit into the puzzle of any
eiventrio lodger's horrible story.
. . _

She mune- outside the cab, dressed in an old
barathea gown, a black cloak and bonnet, and an
imperviously cl.ise gauze veil of the same sombre
hue, which she held about her face as if it wis a
secret enemy everyone was curious to detect, and
she terribly interested to conixeL There was •
largs box on the top of the cab. It was of very old.
fashioned make, and evidently originally designed as
an addendum to • travelling•carriage. The exterior
was covered with leather, bound with iron, studded
with nails, and secured with a big foreign lock,
supplemented with a clumsy heap. It was not
unlike its owner—old, worn, and of a rusty black.
The great handles clanked as the man lifted it with
difficulty and due assistance to the ground. It was
not easy to get it upstairs. Did it contain books
that it was so weighty? It evidently held some.
thing that was very precious to the owner, for she
watched its ascent with strained eyes • and, judging
from the nervous interest she appeared to take in it,
I did not doubt she had ridden outside to be near
her treasure, and selected the time of night on
parporie to do so. When the box was fairly upstairs,
she sat dove on it and remained there. Within the
cab we found only • small portmanteau.
She had given no name when answering our
advertisement, but simply forwarded a stamped
envelope addressed to " Alpha, Post-offioe, Dover."
Kitty, the servant girl. asked if she would like some
tea, and also by what name she .hold addrees her.
"I will take tea, thank you," was the reply, in •
half absent, slow, inward tone peculiar to her. "My
name ie of no consequence. What am Ito call
you?"
" Kitty, if you please."
"Very well then, Kitty, you will hays occasion
to address me in no other manner than as 'madam,'
or, as you will pronounoe it,' ma'am." And with
that she gave Kitty a month's rent and asked for •
receipt. "Money is better than a name," she
added, in her listless, slow way, muttering to
herself, " What is my name to them? what is my
=as* r

As it appeared to vex her, and really did not
matter to us, we asked the question no MOM, but
spoke of her 24 "the lady upstairs," She was
evidently eccentric. Sometimes she would walk
round the garden in the twilight, covered with her
gauze veil, and holding it in • tight nervous grasp
of a gloved hand, as she did the night when she
came, her eyes apperantly seeking the window of her
room with • suspicious restlessness, which seemed
to be part of her eccentricity.
It appeared that the lady's portmanteau contained
only • change of linen, originally Sue and trimmed
with costly lace, but now most elaborately yet neatly
mended. But for this, a thimble, scissors, needle
and thread, and the dress she came in, our lodger
might have been destitute. Yet the large heavy
box must contain something. Still, though the
object of so much solicitude, we could never
discover that the opened it. It wee placed in such
• position as to be visible from both rooms. During
the day she always sat upon it, In the morning,
when Kitty took in her can of hot water, the lady
was ever awake, lying on her side, with her eyes
fixed upon her precious -box.
. . . . . _

Whs.'s) Bret th'is quiet but eccentric inmate entered
our house she had with her • roll of hank-notes and
• casi of valuable jewels, Although abs barely
allowed herself the necessaries of life, the former
were changed away one by one, until at last, at her
request, Harry procured • purchaser for her trinkets,
at • fair price, through the interventioo of • friend.
The budding months blossomed into years and
fructified into the seed that is sown in the eternity
of the past, and we knew that the MOWN thus
procured were exhausted. We felt deeply interested
in our tenant, in spite—perhaps because—of her
strange habits, aal fell into a custom of conversing
together about her as if she had been • friend. If
these jewels were her last possessions, what was
to become of her? What was a woman of her age
to do?
Her age? That wane question. We felt some
doubt, about her age. Kitty, who saw mart of
her, thought she had not paned, so many years in
the world as we at first supsy-esed. She appeared to
have no fnends or acquointsnos• No letters oame.
no "1"4" "lied* no post-bag was troubled on her
amount.
Well r
wea that mysterious chest Our
wuirli"...es and anxieties on her behalf olways found
a %sage and • ambulation in that. It must contain
something. It was the hope, the Mints Mule of
our fancies—the sword with which we cut the
Gordian knot of our perplexities.
bolds' Deplatepend,—uroun Hemba;ryborwemarheskyyert "the
itic. box
r
perhaps it contains diamonds of greater value
vid
more in number than those I sold some time ago.
Our speculations regarding the age of the lady
were set at rest by the arrival of the census. Armed
with the formidable paper, I rapped gently at the
drawing•room door.
,e,o responded the low dull measured
I entered and explained my errand. "Shall I
lease the paper with your I swaged.
"Wy writing might be—" She oommenold se U
thinking aloud, and stopping soddenly upon regrew
boring that she was no longer alone. Twang ast ma
bra eyes—peculiar gray eyes, Ursa lookarl gulf is

Raver slept or added, ' Will you have
the goodame to idJtb. pirtioalare for r
" The Darn.?" I inquired, dipping a pen in the

"What is yam!" was the counter question.
" Mary Herbert."
"Writ. Martha Herbert, then, that will do."
I I looked inquiringly. "You know there is
penalty r
Yes ; but the name is of little oonsequenoe—tbe
name of a lone woman. I have given you a name ;
• will you not write it ?"
I said no more but inscribed the paper_as directed.
But the appellation was evidently feigned.
Your age 1"
" Twenty-eight "
The pen actually dropped from my hand as she
said twenty-eight; and I looked up very quickly.
"Nay," she replied, meeting my gase, and with-
out altering hot monotonous tone, " that is the
simple truth. Are you very surprised! I suppose
with my white hair I look an old woman."

"I CAD hardly believe, my dear madam, that you
are not mistaken," 1 ventured to remonstrate.

"I have given you reason to doebt me, perhaps;
bat I have answered your query with rnfard to *go
truly. I am but eight-and•twenty—hltrel7 eight.
and-twenty."
Good heaven I thought I, what can have been the
circumetanose of your life that your hair is gray,
your face thus lined, yourself all but turned from a
being of flesh and blood to • thing of stooe I—that
you are thus suit-immured and solitary, that you
shun our society and have refused all our efforts at
kindness? We had gathered even from her scanty
denials of our offers of amusement that she was •
hairnet, a musician, an artist ; and yet there she eat
all day, on that chest, nursing her hands, or at most
adding • darn to her were linen.
Tbe census farther told me that she was born in
the pariah of St. George, Hanover-square, and was
• widow. Harry and I talked about her more than
ever. We knew that she had spent all the money
obtained for the jewels, even on her frugal wants.
For two weeks she had paid no rent, ordered no
food. We knew not what to do; whether or not
to speak to her, oi, if we spoke, what to propose.
It was Monday morning, and we were seated at
breakfast when Bitty hurried in and told us that
the lady upstairs was in • fit. I ran up, begging
Harry himself to hasten for • doctor. The girl had
spoken truly. The fit wu not fatal ; but the poor
woman lay unconscious for days. When her meson
returned, it was evident that she was rapidly sinking.
The doctor informed us she had only a few hours
to live. There were no friends to summon; and
vain were my persuasions to induce her to ses •
clergyman, to confess any faith, or acknowledge
ooneectioo with any church or sect. I eat by the
bedside I had not quitted day or night since her I
illness. After lying quiet some time with her hand
in mine, she at last said feebly, "Open my pott-
manteau and take out the book." I took the key
she offered, sad obeyed by bringing to her bedside
a common clasped account-book, the only one I sew.
" You have shown me kindness. You have
appeared interested in ma. I have yearned to make
you my friend. But my secrets are such as during
life oould be confided to none. I have written them
there for you. Promise me not to open that book
till! sin dead."

I gave my word, and, in obedienoe to her request,
put. the book into my pocket...

-
"M, gray hair, my wrinkled face, my twenty-
eight years---you will understand them ; but will
you feel pity ?'
She was sinking rapidly, like a man at eventide;
and I pressed upon her again my request to ree
from my Bible the worda of One whose mercy and
forgiveness were more needed than mine.
She consented. I read for some time, and
thought the words were comforting, when she
started up, her manner wild, her eyes starting.
"! Look ! look I look!" she cried, pointing with her
forefinger and white-draped arm to the iron-bound
chest, "look Hook! look!" and with • low cry the
poor lady sank back on her mach dying. The
struggle was soon over, and all was quiet.
"Look I look ! look !" What had she seen'
What vision had fancy, or conscience, or sudden
delirium roused before her' I knew not. 1 saw
only the large dark chest in the place where it had
ever rested—dull, shabby, and cumbrous.
We were worn out and tired, and glad to retire
early to bed. Ido not know how long Harry and I
had been asleep when we were startled by a heavy
noise in the gram underneath. Harry sprang upend
seised the night-light Surely it is the lid of the
heavy chest suddenly slammed, and there are thieves
in the house, thought I, as I ran after my spouse,
lest there might be danger for him alone, and just
as if a feeble weinan in hir night array, like myself,
could be any protection. In moments of sudden fear
we do not stay to reason, but act upon impulse. In
another moment we stood in the double chamber
below. It WU untenanted, save by the dead. The
pat box stood as I had last aeon it. I tried the
lock •it was quite secure. We called up Kitty, and
searched the house • bolts, bars, and locks were all
intact. Then we bean to reason how absurd we bad
been to suppose that thieves would slam a box 'lid,
or make a noise to wake the inmates of the house,
bad they entered. We could not sleep any more
that night, but dressed ourselves and set up
watching • and Kitty lighted a fire, prepared some
tea, and shared our folly. The truth is, we bad all
been fagged and distressed, and our nerves were
unstrung. As for the noise, it was one of thou
mysterious sounds
amongst " things not generally known" even to the
inquiring mind of a Timba
In the morning the doctor called to see us,u he had
promised to do, and with him and Kitty art witnesses
we determined to open the chest or box, and relieve
our minds of doubt as to what it contained. There
might be property,—in fact we had no doubt but
what there was—and possibly traces of family
connections, or friends with whom we ought to
communicate.

The key was turned; the lid rained. The ticking
of • bed, old, yellow, and dieoolured, was folded
over the contents. As we essayed to remove it,
it fell to fragment' in our bands, disclosing—good
heaven —such a sights. eyes have rarely rested
upon. Kitty shrieked ; I almost fainted, and Harry
involuntarily caught me in his arms. Even the
doctor blanched, and fell back • step or two. For
there lay, under the fragments of the old ticking,
the remains of • man. Little more than • skeleton,
little more than a heap of rage, or more or less
mouldy dust, hidden amongst which was • wetly
watch and chain, • set of studs, and a diamond ring
of very great prioe,—trinkets whose value would have
kept the lady who lay dead in oomfort for two or
three years.
Who was this man and what the motive that led
to this strange enclosure of his body Were the
remains those of • husband from whom, like Qaeen
Jane, she could not part? or was it the body of a
murdered man—a guilty lover—a jealous spouse,
thrust from sight and concealed at the espenee of a
lifewatob 1 This was the secret of the eccentricity of
the woman who had kept ghastly companionship
under our roof so long.
I remembered her book, and putting my hand into
soy pocket pulled it forth; for in the solemn
boor of death, during the grief and fatigue
that followed, and the subsequent foolish
alarm of the night, I had forgotten it. Clos-
ing the lid over the ghastly spectacle, turu.
ing the key in the lock, and securing also the
ohamber•door, was the work of • abort time; and
afterward, we gathered in our little parlour together,
to hare the terrible facts which Harry read us, and
which I here copy from the mutants of the elapsed
volume.

" I know not whether I am mad or sane. I know
not whether I was mad when I did it, My mother
died raving mad. The old earl, my grandfather, was
methodically mad, and was kept under disguised
restraint in his ancestral mansion, that the world
might not know it. But it oozed out, as things
concealed usually do, with exaggerations. If I am
mad, I was not &mountable for it and
cannot be judged for it And if I am an.,
I have expiated it by • long life-watch of cruel
and horrible self-torture. To live all my days in a
home converted into a mausoleum; to be condemned
to sit upon an unburied coffin; to be encumbered
everywhere with • tenant who should be in the
tomb; to live alone with death ; to eat side by side
with • skeleton; to taste food out of a blood-red
hand, and bare • blood•red sky ever before me,—
are parts of my punishment. I never see a blue sky
or a gray distant*. Everything has • sanguinary
haze over it, as if I looked through spectacles of
liame-oolour. And yet I did not abed blood, —all,
no, I did not do that.
I have formed • friendship for this woman, and
I should like to talk to her; yet I cannot divulge
my secret. She seems to love her husband; yet
not u [loved mine. As [loved him As I loved
him—passionately, wildly, fearfully, madly, so that
can take my gaze off hie coffin so that I rise
in the darkness and edema of the night to kiss and
'embrace the cold wood; and I feel my passion and
my remorse eating out my heart. I cannot
weep. I never shed • tear now, as I never shed a
tear then. My grief is cold and tearless, as my rage
was cold end tearless., and my happiness cold and
tearless, wbenhe lived. Outwardly, only outwordly.
Within I was and am • human volcano, and the fire
is consuming my heart and brain, sense and bang,
slowly, slowly,—heaven, how slowly I It is retribu-
tion.
In my girlhood I was beautiful, and gift" with
extrordinery talent'. Whatever I undertook I
mastered. I studied astrology, and cast my
nativity. I saw the doom thee, but did not com-
prehend it. Could we Merely know the future, of
what use would it be? Should we warned, advised.
or guided? No. Doom is doom, and we should
rash on blindly towards it.
in every accomplishment I exoelled. And yet I
was but Union years of age, living in retirement
at • country seat with my governess, when I met my
future husband. I was sketching the stump of a
tree in a grove, boost with dog and gun Our eyes
met with •fiash of light, and we loved "soh other.
He was so handsome, • heathen might have thought
him • deity descended from the elm& His hair
was fair, rich, and waving, over eyes blue as heaven,
his 001111 pie: ion more delicate, if posabe, than my
own. His voice was soft, rice, sod manly. He had
travelled, and was wall reed as myself. I did

not disoover all this el finik Bat we loved Moor
eyes met. Then we were oompelled to spselk. We
walked home and saw my ohsperone,—en interview
which insulted in his seeking my father, whose
parliamentary duties yet bald him in London. No
parent could object to mob an unexcootionable tailor
as Lionel; bat an obstacle existed on his aide, whom
father, Lord—(l will betray no names, not eves
to her I fancy my friend ; but for the oredit of these
so unwillingly related, sappren all nomenclature,
and carry shame and crime alone to the trove).—
Lord —refused to sanction his eon's mica with
the daughter of • lunatic, the graadohild of an
idiot.

But Lionel and I were mad for love. We mob;
we eloped; we married, sad fled to the Coatinsat
to avoid the reprosches and interferesee of aagry
parade.
After I had oonseoted to elope I looked round our
place Jar& ranted* wherein I might peck the
few I intended to take with um In the
oosoh:bouse I saw the old box or chest destined to
play ao awful a part in my wretched story. I
contrived to deposit what I needed unobserved;
and in the 'silence of the night, when all ele j
around the young groom, who slept over the
lad offered him a handsome gift of gold, yeller
shining in the light of the lamp I held, if be.
harness the horses end take me and that dingy
to where Lionel awaited nu