sir," replied the man; "he is in the study, sir."
"Ha! a professional call. Well, we shall see."
So saying, the little gentleman summoned his gravest look, and hastenedto the chamber of audience.
On entering he found a man dressed well, but gravely, having in hisair and manner something of high breeding. In countenance striking,dark-featured, and stern, furrowed with the lines of pain orthought, rather than of age, although his dark hairs were largelymingled with white.
The physician bowed, and requested the stranger to take a chair; he,however, nodded slightly and impatiently, as if to intimate anintolerance of ceremony, and, advancing a step or two, said abruptly--
"My name, sir, is Marston; I have come to give you a patient."
The doctor bowed with a still deeper inclination, and paused for acontinuance of the communication thus auspiciously commenced.
"You are Dr. Parkes, I take it for granted," said Marston, in thesame tone.
"Your most obedient, humble servant, sir," replied he, with the politeformality of the day, and another grave bow.
"Doctor," demanded Marston, fixing his eye upon him sternly, andsignificantly tapping his own forehead, "can you stay execution?"
The physician looked puzzled, hesitated, and at last requested hisvisitor to be more explicit.
"Can you," said Marston, with the same slow and stern articulation, andafter a considerable pause--"can you prevent the malady you profess tocure?--can you meet and defeat the enemy halfway?--can you scare away thespirit of madness before it takes actual possession, and while it isstill only hovering about its threatened victim?"
"Sir," he replied, "in certain cases--in very many, indeed--the enemy, asyou well call it, may thus be met, and effectually worsted at a distance.Timely interposition, in ninety cases out of a hundred, is everything;and, I assure you, I hear your question with much pleasure, inasmuch as Iassume it to have reference to the case of the patient about whom youdesire to consult me; and who is, therefore, I hope, as yet merelymenaced with the misfortune from which you would save him."
"I, myself, am that patient, sir," said Marston, with an effort; "yoursurmise is right. I am not mad, but unequivocally menaced with madness;it is not to be mistaken. Sir, there is no misunderstanding thetremendous and intolerable signs that glare upon my mind."
"And pray, sir, have you consulted your friends or your family upon thecourse best to be pursued?" inquired Dr. Parkes, with grave interest.
"No, sir," he answered sharply, and almost fiercely; "I have no fancy tomake myself the subject of a writ _de lunatico inquirendo_; I don't wantto lose my liberty and my property at a blow. The course I mean to takehas been advised by no one but myself--is known to no other. I nowdisclose it, and the causes of it, to you, a gentleman, and myprofessional adviser, in the expectation that you will guard with thestrictest secrecy my spontaneous revelations; this you promise me?"
"Certainly, Mr. Marston; I have neither the disposition nor the right towithhold such a promise," answered the physician.
"Well, then, I will first tell you the arrangement I propose, with yourpermission, to make, and then I shall answer all your questions,respecting my own case," resumed Marston, gloomily. "I wish to placemyself under your care, to live under your roof, reserving my fullliberty of action. I must be free to come and to go as I will; and on theother hand, I undertake that you shall find me an amenable and docilepatient enough. In addition, I stipulate that there shall be no attemptwhatever made to communicate with those who are connected with me: theseterms agreed upon, I place myself in your hands. You will find in me, asI said before, a deferential patient, and I trust not a troublesome one.I hope you will excuse my adding, that I shall myself pay the charge ofmy sojourn here from week to week, in advance."
The proposed arrangement was a strange one; and although Dr. Parkesdimly foresaw some of the embarrassments which might possibly arisefrom his accepting it, there was yet so much that was reasonable aswell as advantageous in the proposal, that he could not bring himselfto decline it.
The preliminary arrangement concluded, Dr. Parkes proceeded to his morestrictly professional investigation. It is, of course, needless torecapitulate the details of Marston's tormenting fancies, with which thereader has indeed been already sufficiently acquainted. Doctor Parkes,having attentively listened to the narrative, and satisfied himself as tothe physical health of his patient, was still sorely puzzled as to theprobable issue of the awful struggle already but too obviously commencedbetween the mind and its destroyer in the strange case before him. Onesatisfactory symptom unquestionably was, the as yet transitory nature ofthe delusion, and the evident and energetic tenacity with which reasoncontended for her vital ascendancy. It was a case, however, which formany reasons sorely perplexed him, but of which, notwithstanding, he wasdisposed, whether rightly or wrongly the reader will speedily see, totake by no means a decidedly gloomy view.
Having disburdened his mind of this horrible secret, Marston felt for atime a sense of relief amounting almost to elation. With far less ofapprehension and dismay than he had done so for months before, he thatnight repaired to his bedroom. There was nothing in his case, DoctorParkes believed, to warrant his keeping any watch upon Marston's actions,and accordingly he bid him good-night, in the full confidence of meetinghim, if not better, at least not worse, on the ensuing morning.
He miscalculated, however. Marston had probably himself been conscious ofsome coming crisis in his hideous malady, when he took the decisive stepof placing himself under the care of Doctor Parkes. Certain it is, thatupon that very night the disease broke forth in a new and appallingdevelopment. Doctor Parkes, whose bedroom was next to that occupied byMarston, was awakened in the dead of night by a howling, more like thatof a beast than a human voice, and which gradually swelled into anabsolute yell; then came some horrid laughter and entreaties, thick andfrantic; then again the same unearthly howl. The practiced ear of DoctorParkes recognized but too surely the terrific import of those sounds.Springing from his bed, and seizing the candle which always burned in hischamber, in anticipation of such sudden and fearful emergencies, hehurried with a palpitating heart, and spite of his long habituation tosuch scenes as he expected, with a certain sense of horror, to thechamber of his aristocratic patient.
Late as it was, Marston had not yet gone to bed; his candle was stillburning, and he himself, half dressed, stood in the center of the floor,shaking and livid, his eyes burning with the preterhuman fires ofinsanity. As Doctor Parkes entered the chamber, another shout, or ratheryell, thundered from the lips of this demoniac effigy; and the mad-doctorstood freezing with horror in the doorway, and yet exerting what remainedto him of presence of mind, in the vain endeavor, in the flaring light ofthe candle, to catch and fix with his own practiced eye the gaze of themaniac. Second after second, and minute after minute, he stoodconfronting this frightful slave of Satan, in the momentary expectationthat he would close with and destroy him. On a sudden, however, thisbrief agony of suspense was terminated; a change like an awakeningconsciousness of realities, or rather like the withdrawal of some hideousand visible influence from within, passed over the tense and darkenedfeatures of the wretched being; a look of horrified perplexity, doubt,and inquiry, supervened, and he at last said, in a subdued and sullentone, to Doctor Parkes:
"Who are you, sir? What do you want here? Who are you, sir, I say?"
"Who am I? Why, your physician, sir; Doctor Parkes, sir; the owner ofthis house, sir," replied he, with all the sternness he could command,and yet white as a specter with agitation. "For shame, sir, for shame, togive way thus. What do you mean by creating this causeless alarm, anddisturbing the whole household at so unseasonable an hour? For shame,sir; go to your bed; undress yourself this moment; for shame."
Doctor Parkes, as he spoke, was reassured by the arrival of one of hisservants, alarmed by the unmistakable sounds of violent frenzy; hesigned, however, to the man not to enter, feeling confident, as he did,that the paroxysm had spent its
elf.
"Aye, aye," muttered Marston, looking almost sheepishly; "Doctor Parkes,to be sure. What was I thinking of? how cursedly absurd! And this," hecontinued, glancing at his sword, which he threw impatiently upon a sofaas he spoke. "Folly--nonsense! A false alarm, as you say, doctor. I begyour pardon."
As Marston spoke, he proceeded with much agitation slowly to undresshimself. He had, however, but commenced the process, when, turningabruptly to Doctor Parkes, he said, with a countenance of horror, and ina whisper--
"By ----, doctor, it has been upon me worse than ever, I would have swornI had the villain with me for hours--hours, sir--torturing me with hisdamned sneering threats; till, by ----, I could stand it no longer, andtook my sword. Oh, doctor, can't you save me? can nothing be done forme?"
Pale, covered with the dews of horror, he uttered these last words inaccents of such imploring despair, as might have borne across thedreadful gulf the prayer of Dives for that one drop of water which neverwas to cool his burning tongue.
When Rhoda learned that her father, on leaving Gray Forest, had fixed nodefinite period for his return, she began to feel her situation at homeso painful and equivocal, that, having taken honest Willett to counsel,she came at last to the resolution of accepting the often conveyedinvitation of Mrs. Mervyn and sojourning, at all events until herfather's return, at Newton Park.
"My dear young friend," said the kind lady, as soon as she heard Rhoda'slittle speech to its close, "I can scarcely describe the gratificationwith which I see you here; the happiness with which I welcome you toNewton Park; nor, indeed, the anxiety with which I constantlycontemplated your trying and painful position at Gray Forest. Indeed Iought to be angry with you for having refused me this happiness so long;but you have made amends at last; though, indeed, it was impossible tohave deferred it longer. You must not fancy, however, that I will consentto lose you so soon as you seem to have intended. No, no; I have found ittoo hard to catch you, to let you take wing so easily; besides, I haveothers to consult as well as myself, and persons, too, who are just asanxious as I am to make a prisoner of you here."
The good Mrs. Mervyn accompanied these words with looks so sly, andemphasis so significant, that Rhoda was fain to look down, to hide herblushes; and compassionating the confusion she herself had caused, thekind old lady led her to the chamber which was henceforward, so long asshe consented to remain, to be her own apartment.
How that day was passed, and how fleetly its hours sped away, it isneedless to tell. Old Mervyn had his gentle as well as his grim aspect;and no welcome was ever more cordial and tender than that with which hegreeted the unprotected child of his morose and repulsive neighbor. Itwould be impossible to convey any idea of the countless assiduities andthe secret delight with which young Mervyn attended their rambles.
The party were assembled at supper. What a contrast did this cheerful,happy--unutterably happy--gathering, present, in the mind of Rhoda, tothe dull, drear, fearful evenings which she had long been wont to pass atGray Forest.
As they sate together in cheerful and happy intercourse, a chaise droveup to the hall-door, and the knocking had hardly ceased to reverberate,when a well-known voice was heard in the hall.
Young Mervyn started to his feet, and merrily ejaculating, "CharlesMarston! this is delightful!" disappeared, and in an instant returnedwith Charles himself.
We pass over all the embraces of brother and sister; the tears and smilesof re-united affection. We omit the cordial shaking of hands; the kindlooks; the questions and answers; all these, and all the littleattentions of that good old-fashioned hospitality, which was never wearyof demonstrating the cordiality of its welcome, we abandon to theimagination of the good-natured reader.
Charles Marston, with the advice of his friend, Mr. Mervyn, resolved tolose no time in proceeding to Chester, whither it was ascertained hisfather had gone, with the declared intention of meeting and accompanyinghim home. He arrived in that town in the evening; and having previouslylearned that Doctor Danvers had been for some time in Chester, he at oncesought him at his usual lodgings, and found the worthy old gentleman athis solitary "dish" of tea.
"My dear Charles," said he, greeting his young friend with earnestwarmth, "I am rejoiced beyond measure to see you. Your father is in town,as you supposed; and I have just had a note from him, which has, Iconfess, not a little agitated me, referring, as it does, to a subject ofpainful and horrible interest; one with which, I suppose, you arefamiliar, but upon which I myself have never yet spoken fully to anyperson, excepting your father only."
"And pray, my dear sir, what is this topic?" inquired Charles, withmarked interest.
"Read this note," answered the clergyman, placing one at the same time inhis young visitor's hand.
Charles read as follows:
"My Dear Sir,
"I have a singular communication to make to you, but in the strictestprivacy, with reference to a subject which, merely to name, is to awakenfeelings of doubt and horror; I mean the confession of Merton, withrespect to the murder of Wynston Berkley. I will call upon you thisevening after dark; for I have certain reasons for not caring to meet oldacquaintances about town; and if you can afford me half an hour, Ipromise to complete my intended disclosure within that time. Let us bestrictly private; this is my only proviso.
"Yours with much respect,
"Richard Marston"
"Your father has been sorely troubled in mind," said Doctor Danvers, assoon as the young man had read this communication; "he has told me asmuch; it may be that the discovery he has now made may possibly haverelieved him from certain galling anxieties. The fear that unjustsuspicion should light upon himself, or those connected with him, has, Idare say, tormented him sorely. God grant, that as the providentialunfolding of all the details of this mysterious crime comes about, hemaybe brought to recognize, in the just and terrible process, the hand ofheaven. God grant, that at last his heart may be softened, and his spiritilluminated by the blessed influence he has so long and so sternlyrejected."
As the old man thus spake--as if in symbolic answering to his prayer--asudden glory from the setting sun streamed through the funereal pile ofclouds which filled the western horizon, and flooded the chamber wherethey were.
After a silence, Charles Marston said, with some littleembarrassment--"It may be a strange confession to make, though, indeed,hardly so to you--for you know but too well the gloomy reserve with whichmy father has uniformly treated me--that the exact nature of Merton'sconfession never reached my ears; and once or twice, when I approachedthe subject, in conversation with you, it seemed to me that the subjectwas one which, for some reason, it was painful to you to enter upon."
"And so it was, in truth, my young friend--so it was; for that confessionleft behind it many fearful doubts, proving, indeed, nothing but the onefact, that, morally, the wretched man was guilty of the murder."
Charles, urged by a feeling of the keenest interest, requested Dr.Danvers to detail to him the particulars of the dying man's narration.
"Willingly," answered Dr. Danvers, with a look of gloom, and heaving aprofound sigh--"willingly, for you have now come to an age when you maysafely be entrusted with secrets affecting your own family, and which,although, thank God, as I believe they in no respect involve the honor ofanyone of its members, yet might deeply involve its peace and itssecurity against the assaults of vague and horrible slander. Here, then,is the narrative: Merton, when he was conscious of the approach of death,qualified, by a circumstantial and detailed statement, the absoluteconfession of guilt which he had at first sullenly made. In this hedeclared that the guilt of design and intention only was his--that inthe act itself he had been anticipated. He stated, that from the momentwhen Sir Wynston's servant had casually mentioned the circumstance of hismaster's usually sleeping with his watch and pocketbook under his pillow,the idea of robbing him had taken possession of his mind. With the ideaof robbing him (under the peculiar circumstances, his servant sleeping inthe apartment close by, and the sli
ghtest alarm being, in allprobability, sufficient to call him to the spot) the idea of anticipatingresistance by murder had associated itself. He had contended againstthese haunting and growing solicitations of Satan, with an earnest agony.He had intended to leave his place, and fly from the mysterioustemptation which he felt he wanted power to combat, but accident or fateprevented him. In a state of ghastly excitement he had, on the memorablenight of Sir Wynston's murder, proceeded, as had afterwards appeared inevidence, by the back stair to the baronet's chamber; he had softlystolen into it, and gone to the bedside, with the weapon in his hand. Hedrew his breath for the decisive stroke, which was to bereave the(supposedly) sleeping man of life, and when stretching his left handunder the clothes, it rested upon a dull, cold corpse, and, at the samemoment, his right hand was immersed in a pool of blood. He dropped theknife, recoiled a pace or so. With a painful effort, however, he againgrasped with his hand to recover the weapon he had suffered to escape,and secured, as it afterwards turned out, not the knife with which he hadmeditated the commission of his crime, but the dagger which wasafterwards found where he had concealed it. He was now fully alive to thehorror of his situation; he was compromised as fully as if he had in verydeed driven home the weapon. To be found under such circumstances, wouldconvict him as surely as if fifty eyes had seen him strike the blow. Hehad nothing now for it but flight; and in order to guard himself againstthe contingency of being surprised from the door opening upon thecorridor, he bolted it; then groped under the murdered man's pillow forthe booty which had so fatally fascinated his imagination. Here he wasdisappointed. What further happened