LETTER CXXVII
Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax
London, Dover Street
All is over, Fairfax!—I am just brought from the scene of blood!—You see this is not my hand-writing—My hand must never write more—But I would employ the little strength I have, in relating 'the last scene of this eventful history'. My sister is my amanuensis. These surgical meddlers issued their edict that I should not speak; but they found I could be as obstinate as themselves: I would not suffer a probe to be drawn at me till I had written, for when they begin I expect it will soon be over.
I remember I ended my last at the very minute I was about to mount my horse. It was a wintery day. The rain fell in sheets, and the wind roared in my face. My pistols were charged and locked in my pocket.
I rode full speed, but I set off too late! When I approached the madhouse, I heard the most piercing shrieks and cries of murder!—They mingled with the storm, in wild and appalling horror!—I rang violently at the bell!… A ready and an eager hand soon flew to open the gate—It was Anna St. Ives!—A boy shewed her the way—It was her cries and his, mingled with the blasphemies of the wretches above, which I had heard!
Her first word again was murder!—'Fly! Save him, save him!'
I rushed forward—The noise above stairs was dreadful—I blundered and missed the stairs, but the terrified boy had run after me to shew me. I heard two pistols fire as I ascended—The horror that struck my heart was inconceivable!—A fellow armed with a bludgeon was standing to guard the door. My pistols were unlocked and ready: I presented and bade him give way—He instantly obeyed—I made the lock fly and entered!—The first object that struck my sight was Frank, besmeared with blood, a discharged pistol in his hand, defending himself against a fellow aiming blows at him with a bludgeon, Mac Fane hewing at him with a cutlass, and the keeper, who had just been shot, expiring at his feet!
I fired at Mac Fane—My shot took place, though not so effectually but that he turned round, made a stab at me, and pierced the abdomen almost to the spine. But he had met his fate; and the return he made was most welcome!—He fell, and the remaining antagonists of Frank immediately fled.
Frank is living, but dreadfully hacked by the villain Mac Fane. They tell me his life is safe, and that his wounds are deep, but not dangerous. Perhaps they mean to deceive me. If so their folly is extreme, and their pity to me ill placed. I well know I deserve no pity.