"Ma'am! Did he tell you of that?"
"Did who tell me?"
"Your son."
They looked questioningly at each other; both unconscious that they were alluding to two totally different circumstances. Cross-purposes are sometimes productive of more evil than straightforward ones.
It appeared that a night or two after Edmund North's death, Captain Bohun found in his own desk a sheet of folded notepaper in an envelope. It contained a few words in Edmund's handwriting, not apparently addressed to any one in particular, but to the world in general. No date was added, but the ink looked fresh, as if it had recently been written.
"When the end comes, make no fuss with me, but bury me quietly out of sight.--E. N."
Captain Bohun, not having the faintest idea as to who put it in his desk, or how it came there, carried it to Richard North. Richard showed it to his father. Thence it spread to the house, and to one or two others. Opinions were divided. Mr. North thought his ill-fated son had intended to allude to his own death: must have felt some foreshadowing of it on his spirit. On the contrary, Arthur Bohun and Richard both thought that it was nothing more than one of his scraps of poetry: and this last idea was at length adopted. Arthur Bohun had related the circumstance to Mrs. Cumberland, and it was this she meant to speak of to Mrs. Gass. Mrs. Gass, who knew nothing about it, thought, quite naturally, that she spoke of the paper found on her carpet.
"Of course it might have been nothing more than some ideas he had dotted down, poor fellow, connected with his nonsensical poetry," slightingly observed Mrs. Cumberland, who was the first to continue speaking: "Richard North and Captain Bohun both hold to that opinion. I don't. It may be that I am inclined to look always on the gloomy side of life; but I can only think he was alluding to his own death."
"'Twas odd sort of poetry," cried Mrs. Gass, after a pause and a stare.
"The only curious part about it to my mind is, that it should have been found in Arthur Bohun's desk," pursued Mrs. Cumberland, the two being still delightfully unconscious that they were at the cross-purposes. "He says he has not left his desk unlocked at all, that he is aware of--but of course he might have done so. Why Edmund North should have chosen to put it there, is a mystery."
"What has Captain Bohun's desk to do with it?" inquired Mrs. Gass, beginning to feel a little at sea.
"The paper was found in Captain Bohun's desk. Though why Edmund North should have placed it there, remains a mystery."
"Ma'am, whoever told you that, must have been just trying to deceive you. It was found on this carpet."
"Found on this carpet!"
"On this very blessed carpet, ma'am. Right back under the claw of that centre dining-table."
Again they gazed at each other. Mrs. Cumberland thought her friend must be dreaming.
"But you are quite mistaken, Mrs. Gass. The paper--note, or whatever it was--could not have been on this carpet at all: nor in your house, in fact. Captain Bohun discovered it in his desk three days ago, and he has not the slightest idea as to how it came there. Mr. North took possession of it, and it has never since been out of his hands."
"My dear lady, they have been mystifying of you," cried Mrs. Gass. "Seeing's believing. The paper was first found by me. By me, ma'am, on this carpet, and it was the same night that Edmund North was first took; not an hour after the fit."
Mrs. Cumberland made no reply. She was drifting into the conclusion that all the circumstances had not been related to her.
"I picked the paper up myself," continued Mrs. Gass, straightforwardly anxious for the truth. "I kept it safe here for a day and a night, ma'am, waiting to give it back to your son: what I thought was that he had dropped it out of his pocketbook. I never spoke of it to a single soul, and as soon as I had the opportunity I gave it up to him. If it was found in Captain Bohun's desk afterwards--why, Dr. Rane, or somebody else must have put it there. Ma'am, if, as I conclude, you've heard about the paper from your son, I wonder he did not tell you this."
"What paper was this?" inquired Mrs. Cumberland, a dim idea arising in her mind that they could not be talking of the same thing.
"It was the copy of that anonymous letter."
"The copy of the anonymous letter!"
"Leastways, its skeleton."
Rapidly enough came elucidation now. Without in the least intending to break faith with Dr. Rane, or with her own resolution to keep the matter secret, Mrs. Gass told all she knew, with one exception. Led on by the miserable, but very natural misapprehension that Mrs. Cumberland was a depositary of the secret as well as herself, she spoke, and had not the least idea that she was betraying trust. That exception was the hinted suspicion that madam might have been the writer. Mrs. Cumberland sat listening, still as a statue.
"And you thought that--this rough copy of the letter--was dropped by Oliver?" she exclaimed at length, moved out of her usual calmness.
"What else could I think?" debated Mrs. Gass. "Dr. Rane had let fall some papers from his pocketbook five minutes before, and I picked this up as soon as he had gone. I'm sure I never so much as gave a thought to Molly Green--though she had come straight from the Hall. Dr. Rane said it might have dropped from her petticoats: but it was a puzzle to me how; and it's a puzzle still."
A keen, inquiring glance shot from the speaker's eyes with the last words. It was momentary and not intentional; nevertheless, something in it caused Mrs. Cumberland's heart to quail. A greyer hue spread over her grey face; a cold shade of recollection deadened her heart. Captain Bohun had told her of Mr. Alexander's theory: that the letter was written to damage himself.
"I am sorry I spoke of this, ma'am," struck in Mrs. Gass. "More particular that it should have been you: you'll naturally tell Dr. Rane, and he will say I know how to keep secrets--just about as the jackdaws keep theirs. It was your telling of the other paper that misled me."
"I am quite safe," answered Mrs. Cumberland, with a sickly smile. "The matter's nothing to me, that I should speak of it again."
"Of course not, ma'am. After all Halloa! here it comes!"
This sudden break was caused by the roll of a muffled drum, first advent of the advancing funeral procession. Edmund North had belonged to a local military corps, and was to be attended to the grave with honours. Mrs. Gass drew up the white blind an inch above the Venetian, which enabled them to look out unseen. The road suddenly became lined with spectators; men, women and children collecting one hardly knew from whence.
The band came first--their instruments in rest; then the muffled drum, on which its bearer struck a note now and again. The hearse and three mourning coaches followed, some private carriages, and the soldiers on foot. And that was all: except some straggling spectators in the rear, with Hepburn the undertaker and his men on either side the black coaches. The hearse was exactly opposite Mrs. Cumberland when the band struck up the Dead March in Saul. Suddenly there flashed across her a recollection of the morning, only a very few days ago, when Ellen Adair had been playing that same dirge, and it had grated on Oliver's ear. Her eyes fixed themselves on the hearse as it passed, and she saw in mental vision the corpse lying within. In another moment, the music, her son, the dead, and the fatal letter, all seemed to blend confusedly in her brain: and Mrs. Cumberland sat, down white and faint, and almost insensible. The lady of the house, her eyes riveted on the window, made her comments and suspected nothing of the indisposition.
"Mr. North in the first coach with his white hankecher held to his nose. And well he may hold it, poor berefted gentleman! Mr. Richard is sitting by the side of him. Captain Bohun's on the opposite seat:--and--who's the other? Why! it's young Sidney North. Then they've sent for him from college, or wherever it is he stays at: madam's doings, I'll lay. What a little whipper-snapper of a fellow it is!--like nobody but himself. He'll never be half the man his stepbrothers are."
Mrs. Gass's remarks ceased with the passing of