"There was one room in Holmesford House which I must particularly describe. It was a bed-chamber—small, but furnished in the most sumptuous manner. It had no side windows; but there was a sky-light on the roof; and double sets of panes were fixed in the ample wood-work, with an interval of perhaps four inches between each pair. Thus no screams—no shrieks could penetrate beyond that strangely-contrived window: the double panes deadened every sound which transpired in that room. Similar precautions were adopted in respect to the other parts of the chamber. The doors were double, and covered with thick baize, so that they fixed tightly in their setting. The walls were also double, with a considerable interval between them: there was even a false floor half a foot above the proper one; and carpets were spread so thickly that not even a footstep echoed in that chamber.
"I shall now continue the narrative of my project against Harriet. Immediately upon my arrival at Holmesford House, I wrote a note to the intended victim: it was thus worded:—'Come to me, dearest Harriet, without an instant's delay after the receipt of this. I am in sad tribulation—at the house of a friend; but I cannot spare a moment to give you an idea of the sudden misfortune which has overtaken me. If you ever loved me—and if I have the slightest claim upon your kindness—come! The bearer of this note will conduct you to the friend's house where I am!'—Poor Harriet! she naturally conceived that it must be some serious event which could prevent me from keeping my engagement with her; and she hesitated not to accompany the female servant who delivered the note to her. She took her child in her arms: the servant of the Marquis suggested that she should leave the babe in the care of Harriet's own domestic; but Harriet would never separate herself from her beloved infant! The servant could not offer further remonstrance on this point; and Harriet entered the hackney-coach which was waiting to convey her to destruction!
"It was in the very depth of winter and consequently quite dark when Harriet reached Holmesford House. The lamps over the entrance had been purposely left unlighted; and thus the poor young woman did not observe the vast exterior of the mansion to which she had come. But when the front door had closed behind her, and she found herself in the hall, she exhibited some alarm; for, dimly as it was seen by the lustre of one faint lamp, she observed enough to convince her that she was in no common dwelling. The servant (who had of course received her cue) noticed the impression thus made upon her, and hastened to say something of a re-assuring nature. Thus, in a few minutes, Harriet was inveigled into the chamber which I have before described. 'Permit me to hold the baby, madam,' said the servant; 'your friend is ill in that bed.'—Harriet, doubtless bewildered at the strangeness of the whole proceeding, mechanically passed the child to the servant, and advanced towards the bed, the curtains of which were drawn around. She heard the doors close: she looked round—the servant had disappeared with the babe;—and Harriet was now alone with the Marquis of Holmesford!
"Two hours elapsed! I was awaiting, in a distant part of the mansion, the issue of that foul plot. Wine and generous cordials were on the table; and I drank deeply of them to drown the sad thoughts which oppressed me. Never had I before experienced—never have I since known such terrible emotions! All the particulars of my connexion with Harriet rushed to my mind. I remembered how I first beheld her, affectionately tending the dying bed of her father,—how she sate day and night by my side, ministering unto me in my malady as if she was my daughter,—how I had seen her a happy wife, content with retirement and privacy—content even with being, as it were, an unacknowledged wife, so long as she enjoyed her husband's love,—and how she had conducted herself as a tender mother, fondling and nursing her innocent little one! I thought of all this; and at the same time I was almost distracted with the idea of the infernal treachery which had now ensnared her! Years have passed since that foul night; and its memory haunts me still. I have made many—many lovely girls victims to the lust of my employers;—but none—no, not one—do I regret, save Harriet Markham!
"Two hours elapsed, I say; and at length the Marquis of Holmesford made his appearance. He was dreadfully frightened: his manner was wild and excited. I could not gather, from the expression of his countenance, whether he had triumphed or lost the victory to which he aspired over a virtuous and defenceless woman. I interrogated him with a gesture of impatience. 'Damnable woman!' he exclaimed; 'if there were not such creatures as you, there would be less scope for the vices of men like me. Begone! I would not endure another such scene—no, not were I offered a sovereign crown!'—I made some observation; but he interrupted me fiercely, and commanded me to depart. I dared not disobey—his manner was actually terrific. He appeared as if he had just witnessed some horrible spectre, or had perpetrated a dreadful crime. I returned home; and never did I pass such a miserable night.
"All next day I waited in expectation of hearing from the Marquis; but no communication arrived. In the evening I went to Harriet's lodging, and saw the landlady. In answer to my inquiries, she said, 'Mrs. Wilmot remained out until a very late hour last night, or rather this morning. It was nearly one when she came home with her child. She was in almost a frantic state, and talked so wildly and incoherently that I could not comprehend her. I persuaded her to retire to her chamber, and offered to sit up with her. She allowed me to conduct her to her room, but insisted on remaining alone. Poor thing! I heard her walking up and down the chamber until past five; and then all became quiet. I supposed she had retired to bed. When I rose at eight, I learnt from the servant that she had gone out with her child half an hour previously. She has not been back since; and I feel alarmed at her absence.'—'Some sudden calamity has perhaps overtaken her,' I said, terribly frightened at these tidings. 'Have the kindness to send your servant to let me know when she returns; but you need not tell her that you do so. I have my reasons.' The landlady, believing me to be an intimate friend of Harriet, readily promised compliance with my request. I was about to depart, when she suddenly recollected something, and said, 'I had nearly forgotten to tell you that about an hour ago, the messenger that usually comes from the gentleman who visits Mrs. Wilmot, and who she says is her husband—'—'Yes, yes,' cried I impatiently.—'The messenger has left a small packet for her,' continued the landlady.—'Let me see it,' I said, thinking that its contents might afford some clue to the mystery of Harriet's disappearance: 'I am acquainted with all Mrs. Wilmot's affairs, for you know how intimate we are.'—The landlady showed me the packet without the least hesitation, and I instantly recognised in the address the handwriting of Mr. Markham. I longed to open the parcel, but dared not. So I took my departure, having reiterated my desire to be informed of Harriet's return, the moment it might happen.
"The next evening came, and I had neither heard from the landlady, nor seen the Marquis. I sent a note to the latter; but he had left town on the previous day. A thought struck me: could he have persuaded Harriet to accompany him? Had he so far overcome the virtue of that pure-minded creature? I thought of the packet from Mr. Markham, and longed to ascertain its contents. A strong suspicion lurked in my mind that it was connected with the affair in some way or another. I however waited a week; and, hearing no tidings of any kind concerning Harriet, went boldly to her lodgings. 'Mrs. Wilmot's disappearance is so strange,' I said to the landlady, 'that, having consulted my legal adviser, and acting on the plea of being her intimate friend, I am determined to open that packet which was sent for her, and which I think must afford some clue to her absence.'—The landlady gave me the packet, saying, 'If you take the responsibility on yourself, well and good; but I will have nothing to do with the business.'—This was better than I had even expected; and I departed with the parcel.
"I was not long in returning to my house, and the moment I had reached my own chamber, I tore open the parcel. It contained four letters: but the contents of one will explain the presence of the other three. That one was from Mr. Markham, and ran as nearly as I can recollect thus: 'After the terrible discovery which I made last night, I can never see you more. You have wantonly betrayed the confidence and affection of a man who descended from his eminence to court your love in your social obscurity. But the moral bond that united us is riven asunder; and the legal one shall be equally broken should you dare to represent yourself as my wife. The most horrible suspicion now haunts me that even your child may not be mine. Keep that infant, then; and be good to it, if your depraved heart will allow you. And that you may not sink into the lowest grades of crime from the embraces of the noble libertine to whom you have abandoned yourself, I have instructed my banker to pay to you, as Mrs. Wilmot, a monthly stipend of ten pounds. I have destroyed all your letters, save the three which I enclose; and I return them to you in the hope that a re-perusal of them will place before you in all its glaring flagrancy the contrast between your protestations and your deeds.
"This terrible document bore no signature: but it was impossible, either by its nature or the handwriting, that it could have emanated from any one save Mr. Markham. The three letters accompanying it contained expressions of sincere gratitude and fervent affection towards Mr. Markham, and denoted three particular phases in Harriet's connexion with him: namely, her assent to their union, the fact that she was in a way to become a mother, and the announcement of approaching maternity. I wept as I read them:—I wept as I thought of all I had done in accomplishing the ruin of poor Harriet!