I had proceeded no further in my cruel speech, when a great noise was heard at the door, and two rough-looking Bow Street officers, attended by the whole household, rushed into the room. They advanced towards the upper end of this elegant sanctum. Mrs Causand sprang up from her sofa, and, standing in all the majesty of her beauty, sternly demanded, “What means this indignity?”
“Beg your ladyship’s pardon, sorry to intrude—duty—never shy, that you know, ma’am—only a search-warrant for one Joshua Daunton, alias Sneaking Willie, alias Whitefaced—”
“Stop, no more of this ribaldry—you see he is not here—I know nothing concerning him—of what is he accused?”
“Of forgery, housebreaking, and, with an accomplice, of an attempt to murder a young gentleman, a naval officer of the name of Ralph Rattlin.”
Mrs Causand turned to me sorrowfully, and exclaimed, “Oh, Ralph! was this well done of you?” Her fortitude, her sudden accession of physical strength, seemed to desert her at once; and she, who just before stood forth the undaunted heroine, now sank upon her couch, the crushed invalid. At length, she murmured forth, feebly, “Ralph, rid me of these fellows.”
I soon effected this. I told them that I was the culprit’s principal accuser; that I was assured he was not only not within the house, but I verily believed many miles distant. They believed me, and respectfully enough retired.
Miss Tremayne, the companion and nurse of the invalid, now with myself stood over her. She had another attack upon the region of her heart: and it was so long before she rallied, that we thought the fatal moment had arrived. When she could again breathe freely, her colour did not, as formerly, return to her cheeks. They wore an intense and transparent whiteness, at once awful and beautiful. Yet she spoke calmly and collectedly. I entreated to be permitted to depart—my intercessions were seconded by the young lady. But the now cold hand of Mrs Causand clasped mine so tightly, and the expression of her eyes was so imploring, that I could not rudely break away from her.
“But a few short minutes,” she exclaimed, “and then fare you well. I feel worse than I ever yet remember—and very cold. It is not now the complaint that has cast me down upon a sick-bed that seems invading the very principle of life—a chilly faintness is coming over me—yet I dare not lay my head upon my pillow, lest I never from thence lift it again. Ralph, here is a warmth in your young blood—support me!”
I cradled her head upon my shoulder, and whispered to Miss Tremayne, who immediately retired, to procure the speedy attendance of the physician.
“Are we alone, Ralph?” said the shuddering lady, with her eyes firmly closed. “I have a horrid presentiment that my hour is approaching—everything is so still around and within me. Every sensation seems deserting me rapidly, but one—and that is a mother’s feeling! You will leave me here to die, amongst menials and strangers!”