The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1887-12-31 00:00:00

CHAPTER LVIII.
LETTING IN TIIN LIGIIT•

'The darkest day,
Live till to-morrow will have passed away:—COWPER.
THERE was not a brighter or more delightful guest at
Barney Grubb's wedding than a neatly dressed boy,
with a clean face, who, with difficulty, restrained
himself from breaking into incontinent huzzahs at
various stages of the proceedings; and who was not
to be stayed from standing on his head after it was
all over on the pavement outside of the church.
Yes, it's me, sir,' he replied to Mr. Jarvis, who, seern
ing the performance, recognsed him at once. Jack,
sir—ltaggE d Jack.'
The lad looked down on his neat clothes with a
grateful smile, and then hastily drew his hand across
his eyes.
I don't know what I'm crying for,' he said with a
sob in his voice. It's all Come right, and yet I felt
bursting almost in the church, just now.'
'So did a great many more of us, I expect, Jack,'
the lawyer said gravely. When our hearts are full of
thankfulness they sverflow now and then. You
won't be forgotten, my lad; Mrs. Ingram wants you;
she charged me to find you out,',
Mrs. who,sir ?'
Mrs. Ingram—Miss Helen. Jack, you are to go to
Mrs. Churchill's, and have dinner with them.'
• Everybody's very good to me,' Jack said, simply.
I wanted to give Miss Helen a cheer as she came out
just now; but I couldn't—it stuck in my throat some-
how.'
'She saw you, Jack. She knows what you have
done, and how but for you Mr. Hatherleigh would
have died in the wood yonder.'
I hope he wouldn't, sir; but it was a close shave.
I was glad to be there.'
They were walking along the road that led to Fern-
bank, and Mr. Jarvis put his had 0a the buy's
shoulder, and Made Win look him in the face.
What thnlz you into the wcod tint night, Jack?'
he said. 'I want to understand all about it if I can.
I have heard everything that Mr. Hatherleigh can tell
us about it. How did you come to be there?'
I don't want to say any more about it, sir; I don't
want to hurt anybody,' the boy said. 'Father has
done mischief already, and--'
• No one will be hurt, Jack. We have been hurt,
all of us. It is over, I hope. Were you watching?'
'Yes, sir.'
Who?'

Mr. Gayford, sir. I had been watching him a
goodish bit, off and on. He had planned it, and he
bought the clothes bit by bit. He was awfully par-
ticular about being exactly like Barney Grubb; and I
heard him talking to himself once, and altogether I
knew that he meant mischief. And the night that it
all happened I was after birds. You won't tell me on
me sir. It's a long time ago now.'
me,
I won't have you taken up for poaching, Jack,
if that is what you mean, Mr. Jarvis said, with a
smile. I don't think all the birds you killed that
night would bring you into difficulties with the law.'
didn't kill any, sir. I saw where Mr. Gayford
changed his clothes, or part of them, and I stayed
about and listened. Father nearly caught me. He
saw me and went home; and mother said I was in
I obedften wdhidenthlatw, adsind't
mnoetahrertth et ps
al avcee
iante all . 0
mßaubt
esahte.
ing.'
Then you saw all that happened?'
Everything, sir. And I saw something else. I
saw Mr. Gayford loosen the boards that Barney Grubb
knocked down the very night after., That was how
Mr. Frank came into the water. If the boards
• hadn't been loosened, he couldn't have been got rid of
Ao easily. He—Mr. Gayford I mean—never stopped
to see what become of him, or if there was anybody
rooking at him. He just rushed away, with his hands
spzead out before him, as if he couldn't see, and
wanted to feel his way.'
And you helped Mr. Hatherleigh out of the water?
He has told us how.' .
'1 couldn't have done it, sir, but for the rope that
was there, and the pit was full. If it hadn't been, I
couldn't have got at him at all. I knew where to tell
him to hold, you see, and he wasn't so far gone but he
could understand me.'
Ugh said Mr. Jarvis, with a shiver; sit is
horrible to think of. And the ghost, Jack ? Had you
anything to do with that .

No, .1 hadn't,' Jack replied, with evident regret.
I heard of it, and I knew; but they wouldn't let me
help them. I wish they had.'
I daresay, and half Hillford would have been
frightened into firs, and serious mischief done. Ors
the whole, Jack, I think you were as well out of that
part of the businesa. It arose out of accident at first,
Mr. Hatherleigh tells me.'
It gave my father a scare,' Jack said, in a tone
that intimated that he thought that his father would
be none the worse for it. And serve him right, too.
He should have held his tongue.'
Especially when he was paid for it. Eh, Jack?
Where is he now?'

'Goodness knows, sir. He thought he had better
get away, I think. The police are always on- to him,
and he has been had up to London, and mother's
taken the young ones away to Croydon. She had no
peace here.'
It was true; Mrs. Donovan found herself, as she
expressed it, ' chivied' at every turn, and Hillford was
decidedly uncomfortable, now that there was no more
money to be made. It bad been very nice to have
new dresses and plenty to eat for the children, and to
rattle her money in her pocket in the hearing of her
Impecunious neighbours. But the milch cow that
her husband was going to milk so continuously had
suddenly run dry, and uncomfortable people had
turned up who asked disagreeable questions, and her
lord and master had become handy with his fists
again, and altogether it was wise to make a move.
So Hillford knew the interesting family no more, and
was well rid of them.
Jack had a place of honour at the wedding feast
sitting by Barney's mother, who had regarded him
with something of suspicion, as one of whom she had
heard uncomfortable things, but modified her opinions
considerably when she saw the favour with which
the rest of the company regarded him, and the little
speech that Mr. Hatherleigh (of whose identity she
was by no means yet sure) made concerning him— a
speech that made Jack very hot and uncomfortable,
but was very delightful to hear, nevertheless.
There was great good fortune in store for Jack. He
was to be promoted to Helen's service. She had
specially begged that favour, when she heard that
Jack was being turned into a respectable being, and
learning some of the duties of a servant. She and
her husband would want just such a boy, she said;
and if Jack would like to come to them, till Frank
should require him for himself, they would be glad to
have him.

If Jack would like to come! There was not much
need to ask him. He *mild have done anything for
Helen, or anyone belonging to her. He had almost
shared Barney's adoration for her in the time that was
past, and his joy at seeing her again was something
to see.
'Till the master wants me,' he said. 'I must go
to him then, Miss Helen.'
' 'Not Miss Helen now,' Cuthbert Ingram said, laugh-
ing at Jack's disconcerted face. 'We left that name
behind us in the sea; she and I. Mrs. Ingram now,
my boy. Here, drink her health, and tell us what you
would like most ; and in her name I will give it you.'
He poured out a glass of wine as he spoke, and gave
It to the lad, who took it with a sudden light coming
into his eyes.
'Am I to say what I should like most, sir?' he
asked.
'Yes, Jack. You shall have it.'
As if he read the thoughts of some of them, the lad
looked straight at Helen, as she sat with a sweet
smile on her face by her husband's side. ,
'I don't know how to put it, sir,' he said; 'but I
know what I should like.
'Out with it, lad,' Mr. Jarvis said. ' You shall have
It. A wedding gift from Barney here. I proinise it
in his name.'
Jack found his tongue now; but there, was a
choke in his voice as he spoke, and the tears stood in
his eyes. i
'Then I should like as he shouldn't be hurt,' he
said, pointing the 'he ' so that they all understood
that he meant the man who had caused all the Isom,
that had fal'en on his friends. 'Father's hunted
enough; and it's all over now, sir, isn't it?' ;
'Yes, it's all over,' Mr. Jarvis said; for th 4 others
could not find words to reply, and Helen's heed wa ;
bowed, and her tears falling. 'I think yoa have
given us a lesson, my lad. There's sorletbing
nobler than revenge, after all, and that is forgryeness.
What say you, Frank ? Shall we " hurt " hits any
more?'
' No—a thousand times no,' Frank Hatherleis4s said.
'What does Barney say?' ,
'Forgive and forget, I say,' Barney repliet 'lt
was an evil wind to me, but it blew m- good. ,ut for
that false accusation my comrades s:ould not haw
found me out, nor my colonel spoken cut for tile like
he did; nor my mother have had a comfortabli home
ps her old days. It's like the honey in the lion-s car-
i
ease—good out of evil.'
Good was to come out of Barney Grubb's s4irlding
day, even to Horace Gayford—fleeing from liimself
and resting nowhere. He and Phyllis made atiraight
for England—she glad of the prospect of seeingyhome
and friends again, and he fearful of himself, and dread-
ing his overstrained nerves might give way an If ad
Waite do something desperate in his franti ..1 terror. His
power over his hapless wife was going. He conld no
longer command his own nerves sufficiently tolallow
him to coerce those of anyone else; and for algreat
part ot their hurried journey he could only Id e her
his orders, and allow her to convey them to othtrs.
It seemed to his frightened wife as if it svolt:d bs
only his body she would carry with her to, E4lass ,
so rapidly did he fail when once his energy gave wa ,
and when they arrived in London in the gloom.
foggy morning she had to take him to the vitas t
hotel and send for medieal aid. It was well fos
that he had plenty of money with him, and with t 3
collapse of his strange power over her her eniagiss
seemed to revive, and she bacame the sensible svernaL
she had always been till she fell into the power cc the
raan who had married her.
She loved him, in spite of the dreadful revelsasea
that had shown her his motives in tal_ing her is his
wife. She loved him still. She had never 'sal- ed
in her affection from the first hour of their meeting,
and there was a miserable satisfaction in being able to
care for and nurse him. , _
' But the matter grew too grave for her to cope with,
and Mr. Jarvis, on his way home after his visit to
i Ilillford on Barney Grubb's wedding day, had a ele-
! gram put into his hand. Frank Hatherleigh was ivith
1 bim. He was going to make Campsie House his hem°
for a few days while some business matters were gone
into; and then he was going to fix the day for:his
wedding with pretty Madge. There was no need', for
delay, as Jack had said. It had all come right at fast,
and Mrs. Churchill was only too glad to see Madge
happy.
1 'Nothing wrong, sir, I hope,' Frank said, as Mr.
Jarvis tore open the envelope and hastily glanced at
the missive.
, For answer he put it into his hand. It was btief
but alarming, 'Phyllis Gayford, Portland Hotel,
Gracechurch•street, to H. Jarvis, Campsie Ho e,
Norwood. Somebody come to me; he is dying.' ;
In ten minutes Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis and Frank were
on their way to the station; rend as quickly as the
train could take them they were at the door of Ilse
Portland Hotel, following close on the heels of tiro
men who entered just before them. .
'They have tracked him,' Frank said in a low tone.
'See that is Hudson, the—'
' 'flush,' the lawyer said in a low tone, glancing
towards his wife; 'thank heaven we aro here to
prevent anything unpleasant.' He turned to the
waiter in the hall and asked for Mrs. Gayford. The
man said that Mr. Gayford was very ill indeed. He
had had a sort of fit a few hours since, and the
doctors seemed to think that he would never rally.
But a change had taken place, and he was much
better; they were with him still, or at any rate up-
stairs. They had forbidden anything like excitement.
But two men who had jut come in had gone up—in the
name of the law' they said—and he had not dared to
stop them. He hoped there would be no harm done.
, I Take us up to Mrs. Gayford's rooms,' Mr. Jarvis
said; 'we are her parents. We will see that her
husband is kept quiet and properly attended to.'
The dnetora bad gone, but Phyllis listening heard
their voices, and rushed out to meet them with a
stifled shriek, and threw herself into her father's arms.
: 'Oh, come papa, come,' she said, 'they will kill
him; and he was better just now.'
'No one shall kill him dear,' Mr. Jarvis said, 'we
will make it all right; But he spoke to unheeding
ears, for poor Phyllis, worn out with watching and
agitation, now that help had come had collapsed and
lay fainting in her mother's arms.
'See to her,' her father said. 'She will not hurt ;we
will go and make things straight yonder.'
He entered a room from which a babel of voices
proceeded, as if someone were expostulating with
someone else as an intruder, and found a nurse
angrily trying to prevent the men they had seen from
going beyond the screen that hid the interior of the
1 room from those outside. They brushed past her, in
, supreme disregard of her excited exclamations, and
went in, followed by Mr Jarvis, whose entrance the
nurse was too indignant and flustered to prevent.
Horace Gayford was in an easy chair, propped up
with pillows. A nervous affection made breathing
difficult, and he was gasping in a vain effort to control
his nerves sufficiently to speak.
'You have found me,' he said at length; 'you are
too late:
swt
e'epNiapo.am;
vgel
fmaomrawdj
eau
rsndto I; nm,ist ttake. time,
eks ee ;
G ga ye
nf our
edm,'
eM rn
h.
a jvaer vit ds ae
i da,
mo
is'
taN. o k,esir,' the officer said, respectfully but decidedly,
w
we want Mr. Gayford for themf
The exclamation was wrung er
murder
mrkdnehoriwmo f
—boyugrt
the
business;
aLord!'
poredari :
fora n c ein
whoset h
me du or od rewr a
he
of
was a n
ao
bt
oh
ue rt pt
toe r
arrests on , t h
He ovr
ae ryc e
Gma ayn.
ford. The sick man did not see what caused the
interruption, he was almost fainting, and Mr. Jarvis
beckoned the nurse to come to him
•He will not be disturbed again,' he said; 'it was
unfortunate just now we were not here in time to pre-
vent it.'
He beckoned the men outside, and took them down
Stairs to tell them the story that all England was to
hear presently. Phil Donovan's information was
worthless, after all, though it was true; there had
been no murdersand the neat case they had made out
1
so clearly would fall to the ground. It was a morti-
fication, after having everything in readiness, and
waiting for every tittle of evidence that could be
- scraped together, to be foiled with their prey in their
grasp; DLit foiled they were, and there was no help
font.

.ow
him

fur) officer entrusted with the arrest bad seen Frank
Hatherleigh many times, and knew him perfectly, so
it was easy to prove the truth of the statement, and
let the whole affair sink Into oblivion, which the
police were very glad to do.
Is it a dream? have I been wandering 7' asked
Horaoe Gayford, waking up from an exhausted sort of
doze, after the departure of his unwelcome visitors.
No, it's no dream; they were here, drat 'em.'
the nurse said, with some asperity. but it's all right.
They won't come again. It was a mistake, I
think.'
'No, no mistake.' the sick man Ett'd, shaking his
head; it was all true; but I saw him, in the do Jr-
way there, just as I saw him the wood, and-'
He's going off again,' said the woman to herself;
but some one else was in the room and answered her
muttered words.

think not,' the lawyer said, 'it was all true.
Phyllis dear, come and talk to him; he will hear it
better from his wife than from any one else.'
Phyllis and her mother came in softly and sat
down by him, and he looked feebly in Mrs. Jarvis'e
face.

'I have been cruel to her,' he said, touching his
wife's hand, 'but I will atone; I will-'
His voice died away in gasps, he was so weak.
He dozed off to wake again presently, and see his
cousin standing beside him, and Phyllis holding his
hand still.

'lt is true; it is no dream,' Mr. Jarvis said; t'.37
and understand tha2. You are safe, and Frank is
alive.'

They dreaded the announcement, but it seemed to
do him immediate good, though it was some time
before his mind appeared able to grasp at the rnlity
of it. Little by little they told him everything. 135
and bye Helen and her husband came and touched his
wasted hand, and spoke words of forgiveness to him.
Hardly for his own sake; more for that of the
trembling, shrinking girl who seemed to worship him
in spite of all that had passed, and who wept for joy
when Helen kissed her and assured her of her full and
free forgiveness for all the miserable past.
Time has rolled by since then. Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis
are old people now, and Campsie House echoes with
the noise of healthy children, Henrietta's rackety
brood, as her father calls them, the made a good
match according to the notions of moneyed people
generally, and married a wealthy stockbroker without
an atom of sentiment.

No one knows quite what became of her sister, or
where Mr. Gayford went to after the uncomfortable
things that had got abroad concerning him; thfy
know at Campsie House,where letters come regularly
from a clearing in Canada—letters full of hope and
pleasant news. Horace Gayford had turned his
abilities and his money into a fresh channel, and is ono
of the most prosperous landowners in that part of the
world; and there is a little girl, the only dauphter of
the house, who is called Phyllis-Helen,' and who is to
come home to her grandmother whenever her mother
can bring herself to part with her.

They have had visitors in their far away home.
Frank Hatherleigh and his bonnie bright Madge made
a tour in America one autumn, and lit down upon the
prairie unexpectedly, to take home a true picture of
what they were doing; and Helen and her husband
are always threatening the same thing, if it wet() not
for the babies—Cuthbert, and Helen, and Frank, and
the new corner whose name is a thing of the future as
yet. They might perhaps manage • it, but Mrs,
Churchill declares they will have to wait till the
children are grown up before they attempt to cross the
Atlantic.

Mrs. Churchill gets a little garrulous as the time
goes on. Fembank is shut up now, tor Norah has
married the young clergyman who took Horace
Gayford's place at HiMord, and they all live together
at the rectory. The charge of the fantastic little
church led to better things for him, and procured him
a living which enabled him to ask the girl he had
admired for a long time in secret t ) be his wife.
The first banns he put up in the new pulpit were
for Ragged Jack, and much amusement was caused
among those who knew him by the discovery that his
name was not Jack at all, but Timothy, How he
came by the soubriquet of Jack, or who had given
it him, no one seemed to know, and Jack he will be to
the end of the chapter.
There are little children playing about the Ferry
House now, who frighten 'Granny' terribly, and
drag her from her cosy corner a dozen times in the
day for fear they should fall into the river and be
drowned. The old lady gets very muddled now when
she tries to tell the story of her son's narrow escape
from the gallows, and people fancy very often that it
Is all romance together. For there is very little trace
of the spot on which it all happened. Girton's Hole
has been filled up at last, and with its disappearance
the memory of the Milford murder' has become a
thing of the past.

THE END.