St. Martin's Eve: A Novel

by Mrs. Henry Wood

Very good, the juryman answered She could go on with her evidence.

After preparing the proper quantity of herb, had taken it to the scullery and laid it on what was called the cook's shelf. Did not see any of the servants except the under-housemaid, who was lighting up the lower passages, but heard their voices in conversation. Could not tell whether the under-housemaid saw her; thought not. Went then into the dining-room, to ask if she should not take Master George, as it was getting the hour for the nursery tea. Did not take Master George. He was asleep in the large chair. Waited some time, hoping he would wake; but he did not. At last got tired of waiting, and left the dining-room, Master George still asleep, with his feet on his mamma's lap. Went straight upstairs then, and was about to get a light in her own room, when she heard alarming cries from Honour. Could only see the outline of her form as she flew along the corridor to the grand staircase. The upper part of the house had not been lighted up, only the lower, and a very faint reflection came upstairs. The cries were alarming, full of terror. Witness was frightened, and it was not a little thing that frightened her. Ran down after Honour, and saw Mrs. St. John come out of the dining-room, frightened also at the cries. For the next few minutes could not give a precise account of what happened. The chief thing she remembered was running back with others to the nursery. Poor little Master George also went. He stole up unnoticed in the confusion, and saw what was left of his brother burning, or, rather, smouldering. That was all she knew.

Mrs. St. John was not called as a witness. Having been shut up--as was understood--the whole of the time in the dining-room with little George, her evidence could not be of importance, and the jury had respect to her feelings and did not call her. It was announced to the jury that she freely acknowledged having gone from her dressing-room into the nursery in the morning, and that it was very possible she had omitted to fasten the door afterwards. That, however, was of no consequence: the door had been left open as Honour had proved: by whom did not matter.

All the evidence was taken, and a discussion ensued in regard to the point not cleared up, the fastening of this door. Half the jury, including Mr. Pym, inclined to the view that it had not been bolted at all, only shut; but that Honour's state of haste and agitation had prevented her getting the door open at the first moment, and caused her to fancy that it was fastened. The other half of the jury including the coroner, thought that when the unfortunate little child had pushed-to the door in obedience to Honour, the bolt had shot into the groove with the movement: and this appeared the more reasonable solution. In vain Honour protested that neither was correct: that the door was bolted, and that it could not have bolted itself when the child closed it; he shut it very gently, and she must have heard the movement had there been any. She might as well have talked to the wind: and to her excessive surprise Mr. Pym approached her with a stern whisper and a warning look.

"I wouldn't say any more about this, Honour."

Will it be believed that Mrs. Darling only heard of this calamity when the jury were sitting? Living some distance on the other side of Alnwick, news did not at all times penetrate quickly to her house. At any rate, this had not done so: reversing for once the popular saying that ill news travels fast. Mrs. St. John had omitted to send to her--perhaps it was excusable in the dreadful confusion--and it was a positive fact that the inquest was being held before the tidings were carried to Mrs. Darling.

She might not have heard it even then, but that she happened to send a servant into the village to execute a commission, and the maid brought back the news. As is usual in such cases, she ran open-mouthed with it to her mistress. Mrs. Darling, who had been feeling very poorly ever since the previous day, and was saying to herself that if no better on the following one she should send for Mr. Pym, was lying on the sofa, when the door abruptly opened, and the servant burst in with the news, her very haste rendering her incoherent. Mrs. Darling started from the sofa in terror, only half comprehending.

"What do you say has happened, Cole?"

"One of the little boys is killed," spoke up the servant eagerly. "Oh, ma'am, it's true! He was killed last night, and they are already holding the inquest on him. It was the heir, Master Benja."

Almost as one turned to stone, stood Mrs. Darling. If ever woman looked in awful fear, it was she. She could not speak at first: she only gazed at the maid-servant, her lips apart, her eyes wild.