CATHERINE'S QUEST.
Imagine to yourself an old, rambling, red-brick house, with odd cornersand gables here and there, all bound and clasped together with ivy, andyou have Craymoor Grange. It was built long before Queen Elizabeth'stime, and that illustrious monarch is said to have slept in it in one ofher royal progresses--as where has she not slept?
There still remain some remnants of bygone ages, although it has beenmuch modernized and added to in later days. Among these are thebrewhouse and laundry--formerly, it is said, dining-hall and ball-room.The latter of these is chiefly remarkable for an immense arched window,such as you see in churches, with five lights.
When we came to the Grange this window had been partially blocked up,and in front of it, up to one-third of its height, was a wooden dais, orplatform, on which stood a cumbrous mangle, left there, I suppose, bythe last tenants of the house.
Of these last tenants we knew very little, for it was so long since ithad been inhabited that the oldest authority in the village could notremember it.
There were, however, some half-defaced monuments in the village churchof Craymoor, bearing the figures and escutcheons of knights and dames of"the old family," as the villagers said; but the inscriptions were wornand almost illegible, and for some time we none of us took the pains todecipher them.
We first came to Craymoor Grange in the summer of 1849, my husbandhaving discovered the place in one of his rambles, and taken a fancy toit. At first I certainly thought we could never make it our home, it wasso dilapidated and tumble-down; but by the time winter came on we hadhad several repairs done and alterations made, and the rooms reallybecame quite presentable.
As our family was small we confined ourselves chiefly to the newest partof the house, leaving the older rooms to the mice, dust, and darkness.We made use of two of the old rooms, however, one as a servants' bedroomand the other as an extra spare chamber, in case of many visitors. Formyself, though I hope I am neither nervous nor superstitious, I confessthat I would rather sleep in "our wing," as we called the part of thehouse we inhabited, than in any of the old rooms.
When Catherine l'Estrange came to us, however, during our firstChristmas at Craymoor, I found that she was troubled with no suchfancies, but declared that she delighted in queer old rooms, withraftered ceilings and deep window-seats, such as ours, and begged to beallowed to occupy the spare chamber. This I readily acceded to, as wehad several visitors, and needed all the available rooms.
As my story has principally to do with Catherine l'Estrange, I suppose Iought to speak more fully about her. She was an old school-friend of mydaughter Ella, and at the time of which I am speaking was justone-and-twenty, and the merriest girl I ever knew. She had stayed withus once or twice before we came to the Grange, but we then knew no otherparticulars concerning her family, than that her father had been anIndian officer, and that he and her mother had both died in India whenshe was about six years old, leaving her to the care of an aunt livingin England.
I now, after a long, and I fear a tedious, preamble, come to my story.
On the eve of the new year of 1850, Catherine had a very bad sorethroat, and was obliged, though sorely against her inclination, to stayin bed all day, and forego our small evening gayety.
At about 6 o'clock P.M., Ella took her some tea, and fearing she wouldbe dull, offered to stay with her during the evening. This, however,Catherine would not hear of. "You go and entertain your company," saidshe laughingly, "and leave me to my own devices; I feel very lazy, and Idare say I shall go to sleep." As she had not slept much on thepreceding night, Ella thought it was the best thing she could do; so shewent out by the door leading on to the corridor, first placing thenight-lamp on a table behind the door opening on to the laundry, so thatit might not shine in her face.
She did not again visit Catherine's room until reminded to do so by myson George, at about half-past ten. She then rapped at the door, andreceiving no answer, opened it softly, and approached the bed. Catherinelay quite still, and Ella imagined her to be asleep. She thereforereturned to the drawing-room without disturbing her.
As it was New Year's eve, we stayed up "to see the old year out and thenew year in," and at a few minutes to twelve we all gathered round theopen window on the stairs to hear the chimes ring out from the villagechurch.
We were all listening breathlessly as the hall-clock struck twelve, whena piercing cry suddenly echoed through the house, causing us all tostart in alarm. I knew that it could only proceed from Catherine's room,for the servants were all assembled at the window beneath us, listening,like ourselves, for the chimes. Thither therefore I flew, followed byElla, and we found poor Catherine in a truly pitiable state.
She was deadly pale, in an agony of terror, and the perspiration stoodin large drops upon her forehead. It was some time before we couldsucceed at all in composing her, and her first words were to implore usto take her into another room.
She was too weak to stand, so we wrapped her in blankets, and carriedher into Ella's bedroom. I noticed that as she was taken through thelaundry she shuddered, and put her hands before her eyes. When she waslaid on Ella's bed she grew calmer, and apologized for the trouble shehad caused, saying that she had had a dreadful dream.
With this explanation we were fain to be content, though I thought ithardly accounted for her excessive terror. I had observed, however, thatany allusion to what had passed caused her to tremble and turn paleagain, and I thought it best to refrain from exciting her further.
When morning came I found Catherine almost her usual self again; but Ipersuaded her to remain in bed until the evening, as her cold was notmuch better. Ella's curiosity to hear the dream which had so muchexcited her friend could now no longer be restrained; but whenever sheasked to hear it, Catherine said, "Not now; another time, perhaps, I maytell you."
When she came down to dinner in the evening, we noticed that she waspeculiarly silent, and we endeavored to rally her into her usualspirits, but in vain. She tried to laugh and to appear merry, poorchild; but there was evidently something on her mind.
At last, as we all sat round the fire after dinner, she spoke. Sheaddressed herself to my husband, but the tone of her voice caused us allto listen.
"Mr. Fanshawe, I have something to ask of you," said she, and thenpaused.
"Ask on," said Mr. Fanshawe.
"I know that you will think the request I am going to make a peculiarone; but I have a particular reason for making it," continued she. "Itis that you will have the wooden dais in front of the laundry windowremoved."
Mr. Fanshawe certainly was taken aback, as were we all. When he hadmastered his bewilderment, and assured himself that he had heardaright--
"It is, indeed, a strange request, my dear Catherine," said he; "whatcan be your reason for asking such a thing?"
"If you will only have it done, and not question me, you will understandmy reason," answered Catherine.
Mr. Fanshawe demurred, however, thinking it some foolish whim, and atlast Catherine said:
"I must tell you why I wish it done, then: I am sure we shall discoversomething underneath."
At this we all looked at one another in extreme bewilderment.
"Discover something underneath? No doubt we should--cobwebs, probably,and dust and spiders," answered Mr. Fanshawe, much amused.
But Catherine was not to be laughed down.
"Only do as I wish," said she beseechingly, "and you will see. If youfind nothing underneath the dais but cobwebs and dust, then you maylaugh at me as much as you like." And I saw that she was serious, fortears were actually gathering in her eyes. Of course we were all veryanxious to know what Catherine expected to find, and how she came tosuspect that there was anything to be found; but she would not say, andbegged us all not to question her.
And now George took upon himself to interfere.
"Let us do as Catherine wishes, father," said he; "the dais spoils thelaundry, and would be much better away."
"Well, well," said Mr.
Fanshawe, "do as you like, only I shall expect myshare of the treasure that is found.--And now," added he, "you must havea glass of wine to warm you, Catherine, for you look sadly pale, child."
Here the conversation changed, though we often alluded to the subjectagain during the evening.
The next morning the first thing in all our thoughts was Catherine'ssingular request.
I think Mr. Fanshawe had hoped she would have forgotten it, but suchwas not the case; on the contrary, she enlisted George's services thefirst thing after breakfast to carry out her design, and they left theroom together, accompanied by Ella.
It was a snowy morning, and Mr. Fanshawe was obliged to be away fromhome all day on business, so I was quite at a loss how to entertain mynumerous guests successfully. Happily for me, however, the mysteryattendant on the removal of the dais in the laundry charmed them all;and I have to thank Catherine for contributing to their amusement muchbetter than I could possibly have done.
Not long after the disappearance of Catherine, Ella, and George, amessage was sent to us in the drawing-room requesting our presence inthe laundry; and on all flocking there with more or less eagerness, wefound a fire burning on the old-fashioned hearth and chairs arrangedround it.
It appeared that with the help of Sam, our factotum, who was a kind ofJack-of-all-trades, George had succeeded in loosening the planks of thedais, which, although strongly put together, were rotten and worm-eaten,and that we were now summoned to be witnesses of its removal. We foundCatherine trembling with a strange eagerness, and her face quite palewith excitement. This was shared by Ella and George; and, judging by theimportant expression on their faces, I fancied they were let furtherinto the secret than any one else.
We all sat down in the chairs placed for our accommodation, and the wildwhistling of the wind in the huge chimney, together with the sheets ofsnow which darkened the window-panes, enhanced the mystery of the wholeaffair, while George and his coadjutor worked lustily on.
At length, after a great deal of panting and puffing, George was heardto exclaim, "Now for the tug of war!" and there followed a minute'spause, and then a crash as the loosened planks were torn asunder, and acloud of dust enveloped both workmen and spectators.
Involuntarily we all started forward, and a moment of the direstconfusion ensued, during which the boys of our party greatly endangeredtheir limbs among the broken boards.
"By George!" exclaimed my son at last--in his eagerness invoking hispatron saint--as he stumbled upon something, "there is something hereand no mistake;" and, hastily clearing away the rubbish and clingingcobwebs, he disclosed to view what proved on examination to be animmense oaken chest, about four feet in height, heavily carved, andornamented with brass mouldings corroded with age and damp.
Here was a piece of excitement indeed; never in my most imaginativemoments had I thought of anything so mysterious as this. The mostsceptical among us grew interested.
"Oh, do open it!" cried Ella, when the first exclamations of surprisewere over.
"Easier to say than to do, miss," replied Sam, exerting his Herculeanstrength in vain. With the aid of a hammer and the kitchen-poker,however, he at last succeeded in forcing it open. We all pressed forwardeagerly to peer inside. There was something in it certainly, but we noneof us could determine what, until Sam, who was the boldest of us all,thrust in his hand and brought forth--something which caused the bravestto start with horror, while poor Catherine sank down, white andtrembling, upon the littered floor. It was a bone, to which adheredfragments of decaying silk.
The consternation and conjectures which followed can be better imaginedthan described. Seeing the effects of the discovery upon Catherine, andindeed upon all, I bade Sam replace it in the chest, which George closedagain, to be left until Mr. Fanshawe came home and could investigate thematter.
The rest of the day I passed in attending to Catherine, who seemed muchshocked and overcome by what she had seen, and in trying to divert myguests' thoughts from the subject, and dispel the gloom which hadgathered over all. In this I succeeded only partially, and never did Iwelcome my husband's return more gladly than on that evening.
On his arrival I would not let him be disturbed by the relation of whathad happened until he had finished his dinner, and it was not till wewere gathered as usual round the fire that George related the wholestory to him.
When he ended the two gentlemen left the room together, in order thatMr. Fanshawe might verify by his own eyes what he would hardly believe.
They were some time gone, and on their return I noticed that my husbandheld in his hand an old piece of soiled parchment, with mouldy sealsaffixed to it.
"We certainly have discovered much more than I thought for, Catherine,"said he, "and possibly more than you thought for either." Here he pausedfor her to reply, but she did not.
"The bones are most probably those of some animal," added he--I fanciedI could detect a certain anxiety in his tone that belied what he said;"but in order to quell the active imaginations which I can see arerunning away with some of you"--here he looked round with a smile--"Iwill send for Dr. Driscoll to come and examine them to-morrow. I havealso found a piece of parchment in the chest," he added; "but I have notyet looked at its contents."
"Before you do that, Mr. Fanshawe, and before you send for the surgeon,"interrupted Catherine suddenly in a clear voice, "I think I can tell youall about the bones found in the chest, and how I guessed them to bethere."
"I should certainly be very glad to be told," my husband admitted, muchsurprised; "though how you can possibly know, I cannot surmise."
"Listen, and I will tell you," answered Catherine; and feeling very gladthat our curiosity was at last to be gratified, we all "pricked up ourears," as George would say, to listen.
I here transcribe Catherine's story word for word, as my son Georgesubsequently wrote it down from her dictation.
* * * * *
"You all remember," she began, "my alarming you on New Year's eve atmidnight, and that I told you I was disturbed by a dreadful dream.
"I said so because I thought you would make fun of me if I called it avision; and yet it was much more like a vision, for I seemed to see itwaking, and it was more vivid and consecutive than any dream I ever had.
"Before I try to describe it, I want you all to understand that I seemedintuitively to comprehend what I saw, and to recognize all the figureswhich appeared before me, and their relation to one another, though I amsure I never beheld them before in my life.
"When Ella left me that night, I lay propped up with pillows, staringidly at the strange shadows thrown by the hidden lamp across the laundryceiling and over the floor. As I looked it seemed to me that a changecame over the room--a most unaccountable change.
"Instead of the blocked-up window, the rusty mangle, and the dais at thefarther end, I saw the window clear and distinct from top to bottom, andin front of a deep window-seat at its base stood an oaken chest, exactlycorresponding to the one discovered this morning. The room seemedbrilliantly lighted, and everything was clearly and distinctly visible;and not only was it changed, but also peopled.
"Many figures passed up and down; brocaded silks swept the floor, andold-world forms of men in strange costumes bowed in courtly style to thedames by their side. Among all these figures I noticed only one coupleparticularly, and I knew them to be bride and bridegroom. The man wastall and broad, with dark hair and eyes, and a sensual and cruel face.He seemed, however, to be quite enslaved by the woman by his side, whomI hardly even now like to think of, there was something to me sorepellent in her presence.
"She was tall and of middle age, and would have been handsome were itnot for a sinister expression in her dark flashing eyes, which wasenhanced by the black eyebrows which met over them.
"She reminded me irresistibly of the effigy on the stone monument inCraymoor church, which Ella and I named "the wicked woman."
"As I gazed on the strange scene before me I presently became
aware ofthree other figures which I had not noticed before. They were standingin a small arched doorway in one corner of the room (where the servants'bedroom now is) furtively watching the gay company. One was a pale,careworn woman, apparently of about five-and-thirty, still beautiful,though haggard and mournful-looking, with blue eyes and a faircomplexion.
"Her hands rested on the shoulders of two children, one a boy and theother a girl, of about ten and eleven years of age respectively. Theymuch resembled their mother, and, like her, they were meanly dressed,though no poverty of attire could hide the nobility of their aspect. Inoticed that the mother's eyes rested chiefly on the face of the tallstately man before mentioned, who seemed unaware or careless of herpresence; and instinctively I knew him to be the father of her childrenand the blighter of her life.
"As I looked and beheld all this, the lights vanished, the companydisappeared, and the room became dark and deserted. No, not quitedeserted, for I presently distinguished, seated on the window-seat bythe old oaken chest, the fair woman and her children again.
"The moonlight now streamed through the window upon the woman's face,making it appear more ghastly and haggard than before. In her long thinfingers she was holding up to the light a necklace of large pearls,curiously interwoven in a diamond pattern, and on this the children'seyes were fixed.
"She then hung it on the girl's fair neck, who hid it in her bosom. Bothchildren then twined their arms round their mother and kissed herrepeatedly, while her head sank lower and lower, and the paleness ofdeath overspread her features.
"This scene faded away as the other had done, and I saw the fair womanno more.
"Then it seemed to me that many figures passed and repassed before thewindow--the wicked woman (as I shall call her to distinguish her),accompanied by a boy the image of herself, whom I knew to be her son. Hewas apparently older than the fair-haired children, who also passed toand fro, attired as servants, and generally employed in some menialwork.
"At last the wicked woman's son, with haughty gestures, ordered theother boy to pick up something that lay on the ground, and when herefused, he raised his cane as though to strike him. Before he could doso, however, the boy flew at him, and they engaged in a fierce struggle.
"In the midst of this the wicked woman, whom I had learned to dread,came forward and separated them; after which she pointed imperiously tothe door, and signed to the younger boy to go out.
"He obeyed her mandate, but first threw his arms round his sister in alast embrace, and she detached the pearl necklace from off her neck andgave it to him. He then went out, waving a last adieu to her, and I sawhim no more.
"Confused images seemed to crowd before me after this, and I remembernothing clearly until I beheld an infirm and tottering figure led awaythrough the arched doorway, in whom I recognized the tall and statelyman I had first seen in company with the wicked woman, but who was nowan old man, apparently being supported to his bed to die. As he passedout he laid one trembling hand upon the head of the fair girl, now ablooming woman, and a softer shade came over his face. This the wickedwoman noted, and she marked her disapproval by a vindictive frown.
"She also was older-looking, but age had in no degree softened herfeatures; on the contrary, they appeared to me to wear a harsherexpression than before.
"In the next scene which came before me, the wicked woman's son wasevidently making love to the girl. Both were standing by the oldwindow-seat, but her face was resolutely turned away from him, and whenshe at last looked at him it was with an expression of uncontrollablehorror and dislike.
"Again this scene changed as those before it had done; the young man wasgone, and only the light of a grated lantern illumined the room, orrather made darkness visible. The wicked woman was the only occupant ofthe laundry; she was kneeling by the oaken chest, trying to raise theheavy lid. In her left hand she held a piece of parchment, with largered seals pendent from it. I knew it to be the old man's will which shewas hiding, thus defrauding the just claimants of their rights.
"Her hands trembled, and her whole appearance denoted guiltytrepidation. At length, however, the lid was raised, but just as she wasabout to replace the parchment in the chest, a figure glided silentlyfrom a dark corner of the window-seat and confronted her. It was thefair girl, pale, resolute, and extending her hand to claim the will.
"After the first guilty start, which caused her to drop the parchmentinto the chest, the wicked woman hurriedly tried to close the lid. Herefforts were frustrated, however, by the girl, who leaned with all herforce upon it, keeping it back, and still held out her hand as before.
"There followed a pause, which seemed to me very long, but which couldin reality have only lasted a minute.
"It was broken by the wicked woman, who, hastily casting a glance behindher into the gloom of the darkened chamber, then seized the girl by thearm and dragged her with all her force into the chest. It was but thework of a moment, for the woman was much the more powerful of the two,and the poor victim was too much taken by surprise to make muchresistance. I saw one despairing look in her face as her murderessflashed the lantern before it with a hideous gleam of triumph.
"Then the lid was pressed down upon her, and I saw no more, only I feltan unutterable terror, and tried in vain to scream.
"This was not all the vision, however, for before I had mastered myterror the scene was superseded by another.
"This time it was twilight, and the wicked woman and her son weretogether. The son seemed to be talking eagerly, and grew more and moreexcited, while the mother stood still and erect, with a malicious smileupon her lips. Presently she moved toward the chest with a fell purposein her eyes, unlocked it with a key which hung from her girdle, raisedthe lid and disclosed the contents.
"I understood it all now: the son was asking for the girl whom he hadloved, and whom on his return home he missed, and the wicked woman,enraged at hearing for the first time that he had loved her, wasdetermined to have her revenge.
"He should see her again.
"On beholding the dread contents of the chest, the man staggered backhorrified; then, doubtless comprehending the case, he turned suddenlyupon the murderess, and threw his arm around her, and there ensued astruggle terrible to witness.
"Her proud triumphant glance of malice was now succeeded by one ofabject fear, and, as his strength began to gain the mastery, of despair.
"His iron frame heaved for a moment with the violence of his efforts,the next he had forced her down into the chest upon the mouldering bodyof her victim. I saw her eyes light up with the terror of death for onesecond, and then her screams were stifled forever beneath the massivelid.
"The horror of this scene was too much for me; I found voice to screamat last, and I suppose it was my cry which alarmed you all."
When Catherine ceased speaking there was a profound silence for aminute, which Mr. Fanshawe was the first to break as he said with apeculiar intonation in his voice, "It is very strange, veryunaccountable," reechoing all our thoughts.
Now it happened that Mr. Fleet, our family lawyer, was among our gueststhat Christmas-time, and since the discovery of the chest and bones hadtaken a great interest in the whole affair. He now questioned andcross-questioned Catherine, and seemed quite satisfied with the result.
"This would have made a fine case," said he, "if only it had been aquestion of the right of succession, for any lawyer to make out; butunfortunately the events are too long past to have any bearing upon thepresent." (There Mr. Fleet was wrong, though we none of us knew it atthe time.)
We now all launched forth into conjectures and opinions, during whichCatherine lay still and weary upon the sofa. I saw this, and thought itquite time to put an end to the day's adventures by suggesting aretirement for the night, and we were soon all dispersed to dream of themysterious vision and discovery.
* * * * *
I think we were none of us sorry when morning dawned without any furthertragedy (by _us_, I mean the female pa
rt of the establishment).
When I came down to breakfast I found Mr. Fleet very active on thesubject of the night before.
"A surgeon ought to be immediately sent for to pronounce an opinion onthe contents of the chest," he said; and Dr. Driscoll presently came,and after examining the bones minutely, decided that they were, as wethought, those of two females, who might have been from one to twohundred years dead.
Mr. Fleet next offered to decipher the will, for such he imagined theparchment to be, and he and Mr. Fanshawe were closeted together for sometime.
When they at last appeared again, they looked much interested andexcited, and led me away to inform me of the result of theirexamination.
They told me that the document had proved to be a will, but that therewas a circumstance connected with it which greatly added to the mysteryof the whole business. This was the mention of the name of L'Estrange. Iwas, of course, as much surprised as they, and heard the will read withgreat interest.
I cannot remember the technical terms in which it was expressed. Mr.Fleet read me the translation he had made, for the original was in oldEnglish; but it was to this effect:
It purported to be the will of Reginald, Viscount St. Aubyn, in which hebequeathed all his inheritance to his lawful son Francis St.Aubyn--commonly known by the name of Francis l'Estrange--and to hisheirs forever. It was signed Reginald, Viscount St. Aubyn, and thewitnesses were John Murray and Phoebe Brett, who in the old copy hadeach affixed their mark.
Mr. Fleet affirmed that it was a perfectly legal document, but this wasnot all it contained.
There was an appendix which our lawyer translated as follows:
"In order to avoid all disputes and doubts which might otherwise arise,I do hereby declare that my lawful wife was Editha, youngest daughter ofFrancis l'Estrange, Baronet, and that the register of our marriage maybe seen in the church of St. Andrew, Haslet. By this marriage we had twochildren, a son Francis, and a daughter Catherine, commonly calledFrancis and Catherine l'Estrange. And I hereby declare that AgathaThornhaugh was not legally married to me as she imagined, my lawful wifebeing alive at the time; neither do I leave to her son by her firsthusband, Ralph Thornhaugh, any part or share in my inheritance."
Both the will and the writing at the foot of it were dated the 14th ofMay, 1668.
This accumulation of mysteries caused me for a time to feel quitebewildered and unable to think, but Mr. Fleet was in his element.
"Here is a case worth entering into," said he, and he further went on tostate that he had no doubt that the L'Estranges mentioned in the willwere our Catherine's ancestors, the Christian names being similarrendering it more than probable. She was most likely a direct descendantof Francis l'Estrange, the heir mentioned in the will, who was no doubtalso the fair-haired boy Catherine had seen in her vision.
The bones were those of his sister, the murdered Catherine l'Estrange,and of her murderess Agatha Thornhaugh, herself immured by her own son;but the matter ought not to rest on mere surmise, and the first place togo to for corroborating evidence was Craymoor church.
The rapidity with which Mr. Fleet came to his conclusions increased mybewilderment, and I was at a loss to know what evidence he expected togain from Craymoor church. He reminded me, however, of Catherine'sstatement that "the wicked woman" of her vision resembled the effigy onthe monument there.
Thither, then, the lawyer repaired, accompanied by Mr. Fanshawe andGeorge. It was thought best to keep the sequel of the story fromCatherine and the others until it was explained more fully, as Mr. Fleetboldly affirmed it should be. I awaited anxiously the result of theirresearches, and they exceeded I think even our good investigator'shopes.
Not only had they deciphered the inscription round the old monument, butwith leave from the clergyman and the assistance of the sexton they haddisinterred the coffin and found it to be filled with stones.
I am aware that this was rather an illegal proceeding, but as Mr. Fleetwas only acting _en amateur_ and not professionally, he did not stick attrifles.
The inscription was in Latin, and stated that the tomb was erected inmemory of Agatha, wife of Reginald, Viscount St. Aubyn, who was buriedbeneath, and who died on the 31st day of December, 1649--exactly twohundred years before the day on which Catherine had seen the vision.
I could not help thinking it shocking that the villagers had for twocenturies been worshipping in the presence of a perpetual lie, but Mr.Fleet thought only of the grand corroboration of his "case." He appliedto Mr. Fanshawe to take the next step, namely, to write to Catherine'saunt and only living relative, to tell her the whole story, and begher to assist in elucidating matters by giving all the information shecould respecting the L'Estrange family.
This was done, and we anxiously awaited the answer. Meantime, all myguests were clamorous to hear the contents of the will, and I had toappease them as best I could, by promising that they should know allsoon.
In a few days, old Miss l'Estrange's answer came. She said her brother,father, and grandfather had all served in India, and that she believedher great-grandfather, who was a Francis l'Estrange, to have passed mostof his life abroad, there having been a cloud over his early youth. Whatthis was, however, she could not say. She affirmed that the L'Estrangeshad in old times resided in ----shire; and she further stated that herfather's family had consisted of herself and her brother, whose onlychild Catherine was.
This was certainly not much information, but it was enough for ourpurpose. We no longer remained in doubt as to the truth of Mr. Fleet'sversion of the story, and when he himself told it to all ourfamily-party one evening, every one agreed that he had certainlysucceeded in making out a very clever case.
As for Catherine, on being told that the figures she had beheld in thevision were thought to be those of her ancestors, she was not so muchsurprised as I expected, but said that she had had a presentiment allalong that the tragedies she had witnessed were in some way connectedwith her own family.
I must not forget to say that on ascertaining that the parish church ofHaslet was still standing, we searched the register, and another link ofevidence was made clear by the finding of the looked-for entry.
There remains little more to be told. The charge of the old will wascommitted to Mr. Fleet, and Catherine's story has been carefully laid upamong the archives of our family. I say advisedly of _our_ family, forthe line of the L'Estranges, alias St. Aubyns, has been united to oursby the marriage of Catherine to my son George, which took place in 1850.
I who write this am an old woman now, but I still live with my son anddaughter-in-law.
George has bought Craymoor Grange, thus rendering justice after thelapse of two centuries, and restoring the inheritance of her fathers tothe rightful owner.
I have but one more incident to relate, and I have done. A short timeago, old Miss l'Estrange died, bequeathing all her worldly possessionsto Catherine. Among these were some old family relics. Catherine waslooking over them as George unpacked them, and she presently came to aminiature of a young and beautiful girl with fair hair and blue eyes,and a wistful expression, and with it a necklace of pearls strung in adiamond pattern. On seeing these she became suddenly grave, and handingthem to me, said: "They are the same; the young girl, and the pearlnecklace I told you of." No more was said at the time, for the childrenwere present, and we had always avoided alluding to the horrible familytragedy before them; but if we had still retained any doubt about itstruth--which we had not--this would have set it at rest.
If you were to visit Craymoor Grange now, you would find no old laundry.The part of the house containing it has been pulled down, and childrenplay and chickens peckett on the ground where it once stood.
The oaken chest has also long since been destroyed.