The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1886-07-10 00:00:00

THE HEIRESS

ATHERSTONE GRANGE,

BY THE AUTHOR OF

"Allan Thornton," "Effie Baird," "Almost a
Criminal," " Leonora's Legacy," d.c.

CHAPTER XVIII.
AN OVERDOSE OF LAUDANUM,
Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care,
Fashioned so slenderly,
Young, and so fain-1100n.
NORTON ATUERSToNE and his family had changed much
With the changing years that had flitted by since
Pierce Atherstone had renounced hisson, and declared
them his heirs.
The children that had flitted about the rectory, and
made the old house ring with the prattle of their little
voices, had grown up and left bats and balls and dolls
far behind them in their life's journey.
The eldest son, named Leonard—after his cousin--
Was dead. His grave lay under the blue sea, and
those who had loved him so dearly in life would see
him no more till they Met him on the threshold cf
heaven. He had gone away with all a boy's ardour
to his new career, and for three years he had come
home from his voyages safe and prosperous. Then
there had come a time when "he was not," and then
after a time, the news that comes now and
then to so many a sailor's home, of storm,
and wreck, and horror, and of brave men
struggling with death, unaided and alone. A
battered cap, with its stained and sea-washed badge,
was all that the mother had of her darling; but she
knew that he had died fearlessly and doing his duty,
and time, the great healer, softened the grief, and
made the memory of the lost lad less a thing of pain
as the years moved on.
The second son, Noel, a fine young man, the right
hand of his father, and the darling of his mother, had
chosen the army for his profession, and was already
spoken of as a rising and active young officer. He
Was about twenty-four years of age at the time of his
Cousin's death.
The third son, Walter, was intended for the Church,
and was already curate to his father, and a most use-
ful coadjutor in all his parish work.
After these three sons came a daughter—Lillian,
"sweet lily, flower of spring," as some enamoured poet
once called her in the sentimental column of the
Leamington Advertiser. Mr. and Mrs. Atherstone
and the boys all laughed mightily at this poem, which
Was luckily anonymous; but Lilly cut the scrap out
and treasured it up, thinking it was very nice to be
admired, even by a man who wrote in newspapers.
Her name expressed her perfectly. She .was white and
innocent-looking, like the lily, modest and retiring.
tlen and sentimental women admired her very much.
Bouncing young ladies, with plenty of flesh on their
bones and colour on their cheeks, and strong-minded
Women, with "notions," thought her "a poor helpless
thing," and sneered at the delicacy of her skin and the
softness of her lustrous eyes.
The sunshine of the rectory was pretty Lillian. and
her mother felt a little natural regret that the fortune,
Which would have gone so far to embellish her beauty,
and make a good place for her in the world, should
Come after all to the very person the old squire had
Wished to disinherit. She knew that her husband hal
done all in his power to prevent the will being Aped,
and she knew he was right; but she was a mother,
and thought of her children's loss, not her own. She
rather dreaded the advent of the unknown daughter
of the hapless Leonard.
An actress ! loud voiced and stagy, doubtless, and
Would fill the old house with objectionable company,
and make the name of Atherstone a by-word in all
the country side. It was terrible to think of, and the
rector's wife inwardly resolved to keep her daughter
from any contamination of the new cousin's acquain-
tance. They were free of the old house now, and the
Young people spent most of their time there; but
before their new cousin came home they would have
to vacate it, that it might be swept and garnished, and

Prepared for its mistress.
Lillian Atherstone's heart was very sad during this
time of anticipation. Truth to tell, it had gone over
the sea to meet Beryl along with Graham Carson. The
• young lawyer had never told his love, save with the
eyes, more eloquent than even lips; but he had
Pressed her hand when he parted from iseer, and when
he let it go, a tiny locket lay in her Min, with a
beautifully tinted head of the giver inside. It never
left Lillian's neck, and if her father and mother
guessed what lay perdu at the end of the thin gold
chain round her slender throat, they were discreet,
and said nothing. There was no objection to the
Union, except Lillian's youth. Mr. Carson's son was
110 bad match for a clergyman's daughter; he was
Young, well educated, of good family, and would be
rich. So the rector and his wife resolved to let things
take their course, and Lillian understood the tacit
Consent, and was very happy. It was a great trial to
her fortitude to have him go away on such an errand.
"It was so far," she said, "and all sorts of thiegs
might happen to him ;" one of the things being the
Possibility of the heiress being fascinating, and his
learning to like her.
They need have had no fear. Neither Beryl
Atherstene's beauty nor her wealth were likely to oust
her image from Graham Carson's heart.
One message had come flashing under the sea from
him, and Lillian had treasured the senseless paper, as
though his hand had written the words his lips had
dictated. It was very brief, but satisfactory:
"Graham Carson to Norton Atherstone.
Arrived rarely. MO. Atherstone dead. Miss
Atherstone all that could be desired. Return with
her in the Psyche."
The rector's pretty daughter had many misgivings
, over this brief notice. if Beryl was all that could be
desired, she was of course pretty and fascinating—
very likely accomplished and clever as well—and
Graham would be shut up with her for two whole
months. The idea was appalling, and Lillian wept
bitter tears over it, though, had she known, she might
have been at ease on that sorra. Graham Carson had
been left behind in Melbourne, and the Psyche was
Speeding home with the heiress alone.
The day after the discovery of Master Jack Blogg in
the forehold of the ship, Captain Bolton and Dr. Twist
Were chatting together on the bridge. They were in-
timate friends as well as brother officers, and had
'Lade many voyages together, in more than one ship.
The captain was wont to say that in the event of any-
thing happening to him the doctor could handle the
Ship as well as, any officer on board; and Dr.
Twist always affirmed that there was no need for
him, except for form's sake, fel, that the captain and
his medicine chest were equal to any emergency.
"The ladies are beginning to get up," the captain
remarked, as one or two shawled rend hooded forms
were seen on the quarter deck. " Let us go aft, and
see how they are getting on."
"I suppose we shall have the heiress and her friend
up soon," the doctor remarked. "They have
both been singularly prostrate; but the stewardess has
looked after them well she tells me. There's some-
thing the matter, there, Bolton. Come along."
lie broke off his speech about the girls, and hurried
aft, the captain following with all speed. A slight
form, clad in deep black, had rushed up the poop
Stairs, uttering shriek upon shriek, and had shrunk
down in the midst of a bewildered group, in a
Paroxysm of sobs and moans.
" What is it? Who is it ?" demanded the doctor,
arriving breathlessly at the scene of action.
It was one of the girls they had been speaking of,
he saw at a glance. The next told him it was Miss
Atherstone, and he called her by name.
"Yes, I am Miss Atherstone," she said.
quick. She's dying !"
" She! Who?"
" Miss Rhodes ! Ursula! Oh, come and help her
I can't find anybody."
The doctor went on the instant, and everybody on
the deck rushed after him in a state of alarm; while
the captain lifted the slight form of Beryl from the
deck.
" I hope you are mistaken," he said. "Miss Rhodes
may be only fainting."
"No, she's dying—dying!" Beryl said. vehemently.
"Oh, what shall I do? What shall Ido ?"
The captain carr:ed her down into the saloon, where
all was wild confusion. The ladies were screaming,
Bobbing, or talking in a terrified group round the
door of Beryl's state-room, and the stewardess, with a
face as white as the towels she was holding, was tryins,
With all her might to restore something like the
Semblance of order among her shrieking charges.
The doctor was inside the little room, but emerged
lust as the captain laid Beryl on a couch in the
saloon.
" Well 2" he said, as he saw his friend's grave and
anxious face:
"She's right," the doctor said, with a look towards
Beryl. "The poor cirra dead"
" Dead !”
" Yes."
" But how ?"
"I shall know more about that by-and-bye. Ladies,
Pray clear away from the door, and go to your berths
for a little while. Nothing can be done till there is a
little more room."
Ile was pretty generally obeyed, some little shrieks
of terror and incipient hysterics being promptly
quelled by the knowledge that the stewardess would
be too busy to attend to anyone; and then Dr. Twist
went to Beryl's side, and told her her fears were
realised—Ursula Rhodes was, indeed, dead—had been
S o for some little time: The hand he had lifted when
lie had entered the berth had been the hand of a
corpse, and he had had much ado to close the eyes,
Which seemed to be looking so blankly back into the
orld the young spirit had left so suddenly. Beryl
t urst into hysterical screams when she heard. the
Words.
"Dead !" she screamed. "Ursula dead! Oh, I
t'ald so, but I did not believe it. Oh, it isn't true—it
can't be true!"
"It is true, my dear," the captain said, sadly,
• PitYlng her from his heart. "You were quite right."
And I am all alone—here on the sea without a
rriend ! Oh I shall die, too! I know I shall—l hope
I shall l''
Not you, my dear. We'll take care of you, and
.:3 you safe to England. You'll get over it in time.
~;rres stewardess, take her into another state-room-
-4` 0. 4is vacant—and make her comfortable. Doctor.

"Come

you'd better pass the word forward for some women
to bear a hand in yonder. The sooner it is cleared
out of here the better."
Ursula Rhodes was only "it " now—a thing to be
turned from with horror, and consigned to the depths
of the deep blue sea as soon as possible.
"All right."
Dr. Twist was strangely absent, and he seemed to
be looking a long way off as he spoke. _
"It is an awful affair, isn't it ?"
" Awful I'

" That poor young thing! no wonder she's half dead
with fright. What do you think caused it, doctor ?"
"I shall know better by-and-bye. I must ask Miss
Atherstone a few questions when she is calm enough
to answer them." _ .

"That won't be yet awhile, I fancy. Well, I must
leave the whole affair in your hands. Do all you think
proper in the matter."
Dr. Twist lost no time. A decent woman, an
old soldier's wife, used to sudden emergencies of all
sorts, came from the fore cabin to assist at the last
toilette of the dead, and went about her business
skilfully and without any fuss.
Dr. Twist made a close examination of the corpso,
and when he had finished, he turned round and said
quietly to the stewardess:
"This girl has been poisoned."

"Poisoned, sir 1" -
"Yes ith this."
He held up a bottle, which had been lying almost
under the corpse, on the edge of the berth.
"It's laudanum, ain't it, sir ?" asked the woman
who was helping.
"Yes. I must know how it was given her, and
why. She has died front an overdose of the drug,
acting upon an already weakened stomach, no doubt.
Vhat do you know about it, stewardess ?"
"Not much, sir. If that's laudanum-"

"It is."
"I didn't know. . There's no label on the bottle.
She's done nothing but sip at it ever since she came
aboard. She began at it before we left Milhaven."
" What for ?" _ _ _

'6 Earache, as I understand, sir. She asked me for
wool and brandy to put to it, and I got her some; but
she mostly said No,' when I asked her if I could do
anything for her."
"Was she very sick?"
"Hardly so bad as Miss Atherstone, sir. I heard
her say that the' medicine:--she didn't name It—kept
that off, and she wanted her to take some, but the
young lady wouldn't, and begged Miss Rhodes not to,
but she was quite short with her about it, and said it
was the only thing that eased her pain."
"Dear me! What fools women can be," said
Dr. Twist, wrathfully. "When did you see her alive
last ?"
"When I took her her breakfast, sir."

Not since P

"I've seen her lying in her berth. I knew she was
there, that was all. Miss Atherstone got up and
dressed, though it was as much as she could do; and
at lunch time she asked me for some strong tea. The
other young lady was alive then, for she called her by
her name, Ursula, and asked her would she have some
tea, too, and she answered her in a sleepy kind of way,
though I didn't hear what she said. I took in two
cups of tea, and they were both used."
"And have you not seen them since?" -
"I went in at dinner time; but Miss Atherstone
said she could not venture to eat. She seemed
stronger, I thought, and took a little brandy and a
biscuit. Miss Rhodes was covered up in her berth
fast asleep, and the other young lady said she hoped
she was better. I went in and out while dinner was
going on, and afterwards I was busy, and
,I heard
nothing more till Miss Atherstone screamed so loudly
on deck, and they came and told me Miss Rhodes was
dead."
She could tell nothing more; she was evidently
speaking nothing but the simple truth, and the doctor
received her story with grave silence.
"It's an awkward queer affair," he said, presently.
"I don't think you are to blame in any way,
stewardess, though you might, perhaps, have looked
a little more closely after these girls than you have
done."
"I did my best, sir," she said, deprecatingly; "but
with a cabin full of 'em, and all sick at once, it's dif-
ficult to wait on them as you would. You see the
young ladies gave very little trouble, and I was glad
to have more time to attend upon others."
"True." said the doctor. " Well, well, we must
make the best of it. I'll see Miss Atherstone as soon
as the women have finished here. Make her under-
stand I want to speak 'to her, will you? I won't
worry her more than is necessary."
The stewardess said she would, and the doctor left
to make preparations for the removal of the corpse to
a convenient place amidships, as far from anyone's
sleeping apartment as possible. His manner was
strangely hard and cold throughout; but that might
be professional. Still, it was not pleasant.
"Looked at me, he did, as though he thought I'd
killed the poor thing," the stewardess said, when ha
was gone. "I wish he had a whole cabin-full of
shrieking women to wait on hand and foot. that I do;
it would let him know what there is to be done here.
How was I to know that she was worse than usual?
They neither of them made any complaint." She felt
herself decidedly aegrieved at the turn affairs had
taken, and told Beryl, when she went to prepare her
for seeing the doctor, that he was very cross and dis-
agreeable, and would ask her all sorts of rude aues-
tions.
But Beryl did not care. She was too stunnea and
overwhelmed to feel anything yet but the awful
sense of loneliness which had come with Ursula's
death.
"I don't know anything—l can't tell anything, ex-
cept that I looked at her and found her dead," she
said, piteously. "Tell him so, please, and don't let
him worry me."
But Dr. Twist was not to be put off—he would
question Beryl, and whatever her feelings might have
been, she answered him calmly and coherently enopgh.
She knew Ursula took laudanum, she said. She had
been suffering violently from neuralgic pains all the
time they had been on board. She had begged ihe
not to take so much, but she would do it, and tha
was all she knew. She thought she was asleep Whei
she herself got up, and so did not attempt to disiurl
her.
This was all she could tell, and it was told Witl
bitter tears, and everyone on board felt for the iota
girl, now so isolated from all the friends she had int th
world, and going to begin a new existence ambn
strangers, unprotected and alone.
(To be continued.)