THE VICTIM'S REVENGE. "Had all his hairs been lives, my great On a wild and barren heath, in one of the western counties, there stood many years since a low turf-built hut, apparently too mean and squalid for the habitation of any human being, looking rather like a temporary shelter for the shepherd during the inclemency of the early spring, when the flocks require his constant attention through the boisterous nights so usual at that period of the year in our uncertain climate, but that the barren soil around it, bare of herbage, convinced the stranger who passed the spot that it could never have been intended for such a purpose. It stood in the midst of a small patch of ground that at one time, as a garden, had been partially reclaimed from the wilderness around-a straggling blighted plum tree still remained, once its chief ornament, while a low mound, with here and there a stunted thorn bush, shewed the extent of the first occupier's industry-but it had now relapsed into its former sterility, many years having elapsed since a spade or mattock had broken its mossy and uneven surface. What could have induced any one to fix on so lonely a situation was the wonder of all who saw it in its desolation, for although within a few yards of a track (road it could scarcely be called), yet the owner evidently placed it on the other side of a small but dangerous morass to avoid all chances of companionship in his solitude, on the gloomy stillness of which there broke no gay or cheerful sound; yet there, however, isolated as it was from the stirring world beyond, human passions were as busy and triumphant as in the most crowded city. 66 There, on a dark and stormy night in the winter of 17-, when the snow was many inches deep on the moor around the hut, the decrepid figure of a woman, apparently about sixty, was bending over a turf fire, striving to catch some warmth from its expiring embers, as the uncertain gusts of wind through the broken panes of the only casement, ever and anon, fanned it to a bright but fitful flame. Then raising her head, and listening impatiently to the moaning of the blast without as it eddied round the hovel. "Not yet," at length she wildly exclaimed, "not yet, surely he has been gone an hourcan he have lost his way in the darkness? No, no, he knows the path too well. And yet," after a long silence, in which she vainly hearkened to the rising gale, "and yet," she continued, " he may have been benighted before he passed the borders of the heath," and, sinking back in despair on her seat, she again cowered over the waning fire. Nay, here they come," she almost screamed, as after another pause the quick tread of several persons, sounding hollow on the beaten path without, fell on her ear, and starting on her feet with fearful energy for one so old and apparently feeble, she rushed towards the door. Ere she reached the crazy and rough boards that formed it, the door was violently thrown open, while a hoarse voice demanded why they had been sent for. Any fresh robbing, old woman, or only war against Sir Harry's pheasants," cried the spokesman, as he and two other ill-looking fellows, with a boy of about fourteen, entered the cottage, but turning to the crone, who had now seated herself again before the fire, with her keen and fiery eyes fixed on his face, he asked in a more humble tone why he and his companions had been summoned on such a night from their enjoyment. Enjoyment! Ah! that is the word, and well may the cup of brutal intoxication be enjoyment to such as you. You doubtless need some strong excitement to rouse your heavy souls above the clods around," and with a wild and fiend-like laugh she continued, Excitement you shall haverobbery did'st thou say Esau Sandford? aye, and gold, gold, dost thou hear?” THE VICTIM'S REVENGE. 66 131 cried she, seeing the eyes of the ruffians kindle at the word, while in a low clear voice, heard distinctly amid the howling of the blast, she added, while even her unscrupulous hearers trembled as she spoke, "But you must not be too nice in its earning. Murder may, nay," cried she, raising her voice to its former pitch, "must follow-to earn wealth, unbounded wealth, you must, I tell you, be careless of a little blood. What! fools," exclaimed she when she saw their pallid cheeks, "what, you have never shed blood forsooth. No, no, Esau Sandford, and you, Samuel Blake-the poor helpless creature lying in yonder deep pool gave but one faint cry ere the foul and stagnate waters closed for ever over its little head-no blood was there. No, no, you were too tender-hearted for that," and again her unearthly laugh echoed through the room. Hag," exclaimed the former spokesman, snatching a brand from the fire-side," have I not warned thee to forget that night." "Dost thou forget it," cried she, as his comrades drew him forcibly towards the door,-but enough of this, you need spirits for your work, and the night is cold William," she said, turning to the horror-stricken lad, who shrunk into a corner during the conversation, "fetch the keg from the outhouse that Gentleman Tom,' the bold smuggler, gave me last night, (witch as I am) to buy him a fair wind, and now lads, never heed a few words but seat yourselves by the fire and you shall learn how you may win the gold I spoke of." It was a little after one o'clock on the night of the meeting at old Susan Sandford's hut, that three men were creeping stealthily through the plantations that divided the estate of Sir Henry Harding from the neighbouring common. The woods were wild and unattended to, and even the grounds around the mansion itself shewed little of the eye of the master; all looked deserted, for Sir Henry had but the day before returned unexpectedly from a long residence abroad. Many-tongued rumour had, as usual, given very many reasons for his absence from his native country. Debt was the cause universally assigned by his over-taxed tenantry-Love by those of his female acquaintances who remembered him five and thirty years before the “gayest of the gay:" both were alike untrue, as were the other opinions current at the time; these, however, died away, and the gay Sir Henry Harding was almost forgotten when he returned a grave and altered man to the home of his ancestors. That night he had retired early to his chamber, and his old and valued servant, who had accompanied him in his travels, being of a quiet and uncommunicative disposition, the grey-headed butler, who had remained in the house, being unable to gather anything to retail to his country gossips, soon followed their master's example, and long before Esau Sandford and his companions had reached the house, not a light was to be seen in the narrow windows of the massive building before them—all was dark and silent as the grave, for the wind, which had been high during the early part of the night, had died away, and the moon which had lighted them to their prey was now hid behind the dark foliage of the lofty firs which sheltered the house from the moorland breeze. A pane of glass was soon broken and the single bar removed from the library window, through which the ruffians entered the room-here we leave them to their work of destruction, and return to the lone hovel on the heath. 66 The door was closed, nay, secured, if its rusty fastening could give security, the boy was dosing on a wretched pallet in one corner of the only room, and the fire, nearly extinguished, scarcely showed the old woman seated on a low stool, rocking herself to and fro, muttering to herself snatches of the songs of her childhood. Unlike her anxious and impatient gestures a few hours before, she seemed heedless of every thing, until the disturbed slumbers of the boy recalled her wandering mind. "Ah!" she murmured, "well mayst thou start poor wretch, thy father's hands ere this are dyed in blood. Blood," shrieked she, "who said blood; there is no blood upon my hands. Nay," she said, after a pause, "I am rambling; but ere this I am revenged, his proud spirit is laid low, his foot shall never spurn me more, and in the burning gulf where we shall shortly meet face to face what will his talents, rank, broad acres, or his gold avail him. May," and here she dropped on her knees, and with clasped hands and uplifted eyes continued, may they but double all his torments-may every fiend of hell laugh at his sufferings, and the lowest scorn him, and then, if human feelings shadow out our sensations on that dreadful place-then I shall indeed be revenged on his proud spirit and be repaid my own ruin." Scarcely had she risen from her knees when the basty steps of men approaching the hut drew her attention; but ere they could reach the door she stood before them with the light of early morning gleaming on her blood-shot eyes and haggard countenance. The men were loaded. "Have you brought all," she cried. "Yes, yes," replied Esau Sandford, “see, I have got your booty-these coward-hearted fellows would not earn your rich share by bringing it; but away from the door and let me pass," saying which, followed by his associates, he staggered into the house, and casting a heavy sack on the floor, exclaimed "But come, Mother, a cup of spirits." She heeded him not, but untying the sack she drew from it the still warm but murdered body of Sir Henry Harding, and spurning it with her foot, "Now then," she exultingly exclaimed, "the first part of my nightly prayer for years, long years, is granted. I have my earthly revenge, and in fitting company too," she cried. Before two of his worthless tenants, his son and his grandson, it is meet that the victim of his early crimes should thus spurn the mortal remains of her remorseless betrayer. "Son," said the palsied Sandford, " who, woman, is his son?" "Thou, whose filial hand has closed his bad career; thinkst thou that I had no motive when from thy earliest years I brought thee up to every crime that man abhors, and God punishes-connived I at the murder of Anne House's brat but for this end, and when I found thy timid soul quailed at the deed, even induced (by awakening his unfounded jealousy) your fiend, Samuel Blake, to assist your righteous purpose." "Could nothing content thee, mother," exclaimed the distracted man," but I must kill my father, unnatural though he was? Why conceal the secret of my birth? But I do not believe it. Nor art thou, fiend, my mother; wretch, it cannot be," and springing towards her, but for the united strength of his fellows, would have added another murder to the horrors of the night. Nay, let him come; but perhaps he would like to see proofs of my assertion before another parent feels the vigour of his arm," saying which she took a sealed packet from an old chest, and giving it into his trembling hands, again was absorbed in gazing on the corpse before her. Little time had they, however, for the examination, as the sounds of men's voices warned them to attend to their own safety, and on looking out they saw with dismay several men approaching, led on by the old butler, who having escaped from the house on the first alarm, and returned with the village too late to stop the work of blood, had tracked them through the snow to the moorland hut. "Here they come," said Blake, "but as they are only five of them, and we are three and well armed let us bar the door, and woe to him who first enters." This was soon done; but vain were all their endeavours to rouse Esau Sandford from his stupor. Still they were determined to resist to the utmost, and having loaded their pistols, their only reply to the repeated demands of their assailants that they should surrender, was a declaration of their firm intention to shoot the first man who entered the hovel. After parleying for awhile, the party without suddenly retired, but in a short time the inmates heard them bring faggots and furze and pile them against the door. They mean to burn us out," exclaimed Blake, with a horrid imprecation. He was right in his conjecture, and in a few moments the smoke issued through the many crevices of the door, filling the cottage to suffocation. This was of brief duration, as the flames, soon gaining the ascendency, opened a ready path for the entrance of those on the outside. Blake and his companions pointed their pistols towards the door-way, but before the party could enter, Sandford sprang forward, when a flash was followed by a sharp report of his friend's pistol, and his quivering body fell lifeless on the blackened mass before him. The awe struck countrymen now forced their way in, and when they had secured the two men found the hag lying in the agonies of death beside the murdered body of their master-a bottle labled POISON," grasped in her hand, told the tale of suicide, and thus closed the life of Sir Henry's victim. C. A. 66 133 SCENE FROM AN UNPUBLISHED POETIC DRAMA BY HARGRAVE JENNINGS. [A Dialogue precedes the following Soliloquy between LYNDERT DE LOCH and HUGO STEILFORT, his friend and companion in arms, wherein the latter, by many dark and Machiavellian insinuations, arouses the jealousy of LYNDERT regarding his wife IOLE. The opening lines refer to LYNDERT, who exits in a perplexed and troubled mind, compounded of half suspicions, vague anxieties, and indignation at his own want of confidence.] HUGO STEILFORT. Solus. HUGO. He goes-he's gone; but with a latent sting How weak are e'en the strongest of these creatures! I am half shamed to play the puppet stirrer The acquisition of such cheaply purchased And rise a winner from it. This fair creature, [Advancing Ta'en by the outside which I've donn'd for the purpose, Is gone e'en further than I bargain'd for, And looks upon me with an eye, that did Her doting lord discover, would be danger. The night is sultry, though the wasted storm Might feel the luxury of cooler air; And so I'll near the casement, [Approaching an Oriel, throws open a casement, and looks out Lovely night! Thy beauties shine more for the late commotion; When the deep thunder-roll, and cross blue flash, The plash of hail, and winds infuriate, strove Sails softly in the ether, lighting up A cool, love-breathing zephyr. Let me drink it! Their gnarled roots suspended from the cliffs, Soften'd to beauty by the chaste blue moonlight, [The Nightingale is heard in the distance. When sleep the skies and waters. Lovely music! That wordless telleth of so sweet a sorrow. |