Life in the Clearings versus the Bush Part 23

"At noon the captain drove into the yard, and I went out to take the horse. Before he had time to alight, he asked for Hannah. I told him that she was out, that she went off the day before, and had not returned, but that we expected her in every minute.

"He was very much annoyed, and said that she had no business to leave the house during his absence,--that he would give her a good rating when she came home.

"Grace asked if she should get his breakfast?

"He said, 'He wanted none. He would wait till Hannah came back, and then he would take a cup of coffee.'

"He then went into the parlour; and throwing himself down upon the sofa, commenced reading a magazine he had brought with him from Toronto.

"'I thought he would miss the young lady,' said Grace. 'He has no idea how close she is to him at this moment. I wonder why I could not make him as good a cup of coffee as Hannah. I have often made it for him when he did not know it. But what is sweet from her hand, would be poison from mine. But I have had my revenge!'

"Dinner time came, and out came the captain to the kitchen, book in hand.

"'Isn't Hannah back yet?'

"'No,--Sir.'

"'It's strange. Which way did she go?'

"'She did not tell us where she was going; but said that, as you were out, it would be a good opportunity of visiting an old friend.'

"'When did she say she would be back?'

"'We expected her last night,' said Grace.

"'Something must have happened to the girl, Macdermot,' turning to me.

'Put the saddle on my riding horse. I will go among the neighbours, and inquire if they have seen her.'

"Grace exchanged glances with me.

"'Will you not stay till after dinner, Sir?'

"'I don't care,' he cried impatiently, 'a --- for dinner. I feel too uneasy about the girl to eat. Macdermot, be quick and saddle Charley; and you, Grace, come and tell me when he is at the door.'

"He went back into the parlour, and put on his riding-coat; and I went into the harness-house, not to obey his orders, but to plan his destruction.

"I perceived that it was more difficult to conceal a murder than I had imagined; that the inquiries he was about to make would arouse suspicion among the neighbours, and finally lead to a discovery. The only way to prevent this was to murder him, take what money he had brought with him from Toronto, and be off with Grace to the States. Whatever repugnance I might have felt at the commission of this fresh crime, was drowned in the selfish necessity of self-preservation. My plans were soon matured, and I hastened to put them in a proper train.

"I first loaded the old duck gun with ball, and, putting it behind the door of the harness-house, I went into the parlour. I found the captain lyinig on the sofa reading, his hat and gloves beside him on the table.

He started up as I entered.

"'Is the horse ready?'

"'Not yet, Sir. Some person has been in during the night, and cut your new English saddle almost to pieces. I wish you would step out and look at it. I cannot put it on Charley in its present state.'

"'Don't bother me, he cried angrily; 'it is in your charge,--you are answerable for that. Who the devil would think it worth their while to break into the harness house to cut a saddle, when they could have carried it off entirely? Let me have none of your tricks, Sir! You must have done it yourself!'

"'That is not very likely, Captain Kinnaird. At any rate, it would be a satisfaction to me if you would come and look at it.'

"'I'm in too great a hurry. Put on the old one.'

"I still held the door in my hand. 'It's only a step from here to the harness-house.'

"He rose reluctantly, and followed me into the kitchen. The harness-house formed part of a lean-to off the kitchen, and you went down two steps into it. He went on before me, and as he descended the steps, I clutched the gun I had left behind the door, took my aim between his shoulders, and shot him through the heart. He staggered forward and fell, exclaiming as he did so, 'O G.o.d, I am shot!'

"In a few minutes he was lying in the cellar, beside our other victim.

Very little blood flowed from the wound; he bled internally. He had on a very fine shirt; and after rifling his person, and possessing myself of his pocketbook, I took off his shirt, and put on the one I had bought of the pedlar."

"Then," cried Mr. Mac--ie, to whom this confession was made, "that was how the pedlar was supposed to have had a hand in the murder. That circ.u.mstance confused the evidence, and nearly saved your life."

"It was just as I have told you," said Macdermot.

"And tell me, Macdermot, the reason of another circ.u.mstance that puzzled the whole court. How came that magazine, which was found in the housekeeper's bed saturated with blood, in that place, and so far from the spot where the murder was committed?"

"That, too, is easily explained, though it was such a riddle to you gentlemen of the law. When the captain came out to look at the saddle, he had the book open in his hand. When he was shot, he clapped the book to his breast with both his hands. Almost all the blood that flowed from it was caught in that book. It required some force on my part to take it from his grasp after he was dead. Not knowing what to do with it, I flung it into the housekeeper's bed. While I harnessed the riding-horse into his new buggy, Grace collected all the valuables in the house. You know, Sir, that we got safe on board the steamer at Toronto; but, owing to an unfortunate delay, we were apprehended, sent to jail, and condemned to die.

"Grace, you tell me, has been reprieved, and her sentence commuted into confinement in the Penitentiary for life. This seems very unjust to me, for she is certainly more criminal than I am. If she had not instigated me to commit the murder, it never would have been done. But the priest tells me that I shall not be hung, and not to make myself uneasy on that score."

"Macdermot," said Mr. Mac--ie, "it is useless to flatter you with false hopes. You will suffer the execution of your sentence to-morrow, at eight o'clock, in front of the jail. I have seen the order sent by the governor to the sheriff, and that was my reason for visiting you to-night. I was not satisfied in my own mind of your guilt. What you have told me has greatly relieved my mind; and I must add, if ever man deserved his sentence, you do yours."

"When this unhappy man was really convinced that I was in earnest--that he must pay with his life the penalty of his crime," continued Mr.

Mac--ie, "his abject cowardice and the mental agonies he endured were too terrible to witness. He dashed himself on the floor of his cell, and shrieked and raved like a maniac, declaring that he could not, and would not die; that the law had no right to murder a man's soul as well as his body, by giving him no time for repentance; that if he was hung like a dog, Grace Marks, in justice, ought to share his fate. Finding that all I could say to him had no effect in producing a better frame of mind I called in the chaplain, and left the sinner to his fate.

"A few months ago I visited the Penitentiary; and as my pleading had been the means of saving Grace from the same doom, I naturally felt interested in her present state. I was permitted to see and speak to her; and Mrs. M---, I never shall forget the painful feelings I experienced during this interview. She had been five years in the Penitentiary, but still retained a remarkably youthful appearance. The sullen a.s.surance that had formerly marked her countenance, had given place to a sad and humbled expression. She had lost much of her former good looks, and seldom raised her eyes from the ground.

"'Well, Grace,' I said, 'how is it with you now?'

"'Bad enough, Sir,' she answered, with a sigh; 'I ought to feel grateful to you for all the trouble you took on my account. I thought you my friend then, but you were the worst enemy I ever had in my life.'

"'How is that, Grace?'

"'Oh, Sir, it would have been better for me to have died with Macdermot than to have suffered for years, as I have done, the torments of the d.a.m.ned. Oh, Sir, my misery is too great for words to describe! I would gladly submit to the most painful death, if I thought that it would put an end to the pangs I daily endure. But though I have repented of my wickedness with bitter tears, it has pleased G.o.d that I should never again know a moment's peace. Since I helped Macdermot to strangle Hannah Montgomery, her terrible face and those horrible bloodshot eyes have never left me for a moment. They glare upon me by night and day, and when I close my eyes in despair, I see them looking into my soul--it is impossible to shut them out. If I am at work, in a few minutes that dreadful head is in my lap. If I look up to get rid of it, I see it in the far corner of the room. At dinner, it is in my plate, or grinning between the persons who sit opposite to me at table. Every object that meets my sight takes the same dreadful form; and at night--at night--in the silence and loneliness of my cell, those blazing eyes make my prison as light as day. No, not as day--they have a terribly hot glare, that has not the appearance of anything in this world. And when I sleep,--that face just hovers above my own, its eyes just opposite to mine; so that when I awake with a shriek of agony, I find them there. Oh! this is h.e.l.l, Sir--these are the torments of the d.a.m.ned! Were I in that fiery place, my punishment could not be greater than this.'

"The poor creature turned away, and I left her, for who could say a word of comfort to such grief? it was a matter solely between her own conscience and G.o.d."

Having heard this terrible narrative, I was very anxious to behold this unhappy victim of remorse. She pa.s.sed me on the stairs as I proceeded to the part of the building where the women were kept; but on perceiving a stranger, she turned her head away, so that I could not get a glimpse of her face.

Having made known my wishes to the matron, she very kindly called her in to perform some trifling duty in the ward, so that I might have an opportunity of seeing her. She is a middle-sized woman, with a slight graceful figure. There is an air of hopeless melancholy in her face which is very painful to contemplate. Her complexion is fair, and must, before the touch of hopeless sorrow paled it, have been very brilliant.

Her eyes are a bright blue, her hair auburn, and her face would be rather handsome were it not for the long curved chin, which gives, as it always does to most persons who have this facial defect, a cunning, cruel expression.

Grace Marks glances at you with a sidelong stealthy look; her eye never meets yours, and after a furtive regard, it invariably bends its gaze upon the ground. She looks like a person rather above her humble station, and her conduct during her stay in the Penitentiary was so unexceptionable, that a pet.i.tion was signed by all the influential gentlemen in Kingston, which released her from her long imprisonment.

She entered the service of the governor of the Penitentiary, but the fearful hauntings of her brain have terminated in madness. She is now in the asylum at Toronto; and as I mean to visit it when there, I may chance to see this remarkable criminal again. Let us hope that all her previous guilt may be attributed to the incipient workings of this frightful malady.

To The Wind.

"Stern spirit of air, wild voice of the sky!

Thy shout rends the heavens, and earth trembles with dread; In hoa.r.s.e hollow murmurs the billows reply, And ocean is roused in his cavernous bed.