The Bennington banner. [volume] (Bennington, Vt.) 1858-1894, 1892-09-09
"GUILrY OF wILFUL MURDER"

piece of folly which resulted in nothing
less than my rusticatiOn. Not caring to
appear under my paternal roof in my
new character, l planned for myself a
little amateur geolOgizing on the South
Coast, and packing few books and
hammer in my portmanteau, LETT the
ancient hall of learning and started Tor
Highcliffe-a fishy tar-smeared seacoast
town, which l had discovered in my
summer ramblings.
/ hired rooms of Mrs. Fisher, who
lived in pleasant, white-washed house
on the summit of the cliffs from which
the town derived its name. Mrs. Fisher
had daughter xclept Amelia, and one
lodger beside myself. of Amelia more
anon; of the ledger, made his acquain-
ance in this way:
was sauntering along the little espla-
made, having just left Mrs. Fishers
house, when my rather sombre musings
were suddenly cut short by the sound of
a harsh voice behind me, exclaiming,-
''Draw, villain! else my eager sword
shall lunge, and in thine unguarded
heart shall plunge!"
turned in amazement and beheld
little, pink-faced gentlemen with mild
blue eyes, standing close behind me, be-
laboring his out-stretched palm with a
roll of manuscript.
81 beg your pardon" 1 ventured to
say, with difficulty restraining smile.
II begyours, SIR" he returned, bow
ing; II fear must inform you, sir, that
1 am a dramatist!'
acquaintance drew himself up, and
flourished his roll of manuscript before
my eyes.
II see. You were quoting from one
of your plays" l said, as politely as l
could, but still with a great inclination
to laugh.
Just so; venture, however, to be-
lieve that l was doing something more
than quoting; was acting, sir. l was
dangerous man, sir, and my blood was
up. 1t was fortunate thing that was
only armed with roll of paper, or the
consequences might have been fatal"
looked at the old gentleman's COM
Portable proportions, noting the genial
smile that played round his mouth and
twinkled in his kindly eyes, and there
seemed something absurdly homogeneous
between his peaceable appearance and
his fierce language. Before L could
speak he had presented me with a card
on which was inscribed with many a
flourish, Jacob Dawlish, Dramatist,"
likeness, he said;
81 am your fellow-lodger at Mrs.
Fishers. l hope we shall be friends,
sir. Any place is dreary without COM
panionship."
We shook hands, and then strolled on
side by side. This was the beginning of
a most pleasant acquaintanceship which
quickly ripened into warm friendship.
l soon learned to respect Jacob Dawlish
very highly, for he proved to be most
benevolent, upright and uncommonly
well-read man, and was remarkable for
sterling common sense upon all points
but one. Everybody must have a soft
place, a tender corn, or a mental twist
of one sort or another, and old Mr.. Daw-
lish's vulnerable point was the drama.
He had written countless plays but never
had one been acted; yet, nothing daunt-
ed, he still covered reams of paper, and
believed himself to be, if not a second
Shakespeare, certainly on level with
Ben JonsOn, Ford or Marlowe!
What did it matter? 1t was a harm
less within which afforded the old gen.
tleman intense pleasure, and |, for one,
never thought of disputing his claim.
On the contrary, 1 heard him read many
of his plays, and the defamation of his
terrific passages always gave me much
amusement. If the plays could not very
well be mounted, they always contained,
amongst much extravaganza, a fund of
information, and many high and noble
sentiments.
Jacob Dawlish was not slow in return
ing my friendly regard; he acknowledged
that he had taken an amazing fancy to
me, and the consequence was that we
spent great deal of time in each others
society; our respective sitting rooms be.
coming mutual property, and our out of
door ramblings being taken mostly in
company. My stay at Highcliffe would
have been altogether pleasant but for
two things.
The first was a letter from my father,
which naturally expressed the greatest
displeasure at the folly that had sent me
from Oxford and disappointed his ex-
pectations. My father, although kind
hearted, was hasty-tempered man, and
his letter was couched in unmeasured
terms of anger, and ended with an init
nation that l need not expect any fur
ther allowance until the period of my
rustication had passed. This did not
trouble me, as never had been extrava-
giant and always had comfortable bal
ance after all my expenses had been paid.
The second unpleasantness was caused
by Mrs. Fishers daughter, Amelia.
This daughter was source of great an
nOyance to me, for l had not been long
at Highcliffe before l discovered to my
dismay that she was honoring me with a
sentimental regard, which, alas! l did
not return. Not that l was blind to her
charms, for was acutely conscious of
her straw-colOred ringlets, her pale blue
eyes and the exceedingly delicate forma-
ton of her nose. Nor were the care
fully combined green's and yellow of her
costume lost upon me! and yet-and yet
strange as may appear, did not wish
our friendship to be of tender nature.
The nOurishment of Miss Amela's
mind, her views of life and knowledge
of polite society were derived solely
from certain gayly covered novels, and |
have reason to believe that her imagina-
ton, thus trained, led her to see in me a
duke or an earl of fabulous wealth, tray
cling incOgnitO in search of bride.
The simplicity and artlessness of this
young woman ought to have charmed
me, and 1 fear that my heart must have
been hard indeed to have resisted her
sweet advances; but it was soft enough
to be genuinely sorry for the pain l one
day unwittingly caused her. Jacob
Dawlish and l were walking along the
sands at the foot of the great white
cliffs, when the old man cried in his
loudest and most jovial tones: