A Woman's Burden: A Novel

"It is your own wish, isn't it? I can see there is no hope for my plans about Gerald. He and Hilda will make their way to the devil together, in a very short space of time. Facile est, etc."

"Then you still intend to leave your money to Gerald?"

"I have done so." He took a legal-looking document from the still open drawer. "Three days ago I sent for my lawyers in London to come here, and I executed this will. By it the whole of my property goes to Gerald, excepting three hundred a year to Julia, and the same amount yearly to yourself."

"To me!" exclaimed Miriam in surprise. "Mr. Barton, why should you leave money to me?"

"For one reason, because you are the only decent woman I have ever met – save one. For another, because in spite of what I told you the other night you had some pity for me."

"God knows I pity you!" cried Miriam with emotion. "I can imagine how awful it must have been for you to battle continually against what is born in you. You have resisted the devil and he has fled."

"I have resisted him these many years," said Barton moodily, "but he has not fled; he is as strong within me as ever. God, Who created me thus, alone knows how I have fought against my overwhelming desire – the desire for the blood of my fellow-men. So far, by His aid, I have succeeded in my fight, and my daily and hourly prayer is that the end may even now not be far off."

"You have done well – it is terrible for you. Indeed, you have my pity – I would do anything to help you, Mr. Barton. But you must not, please, leave me this money. For one thing, Mrs. Darrow – "

"I have foreseen all that, and have, I think, effectually provided against any molestation from her. I have seen all along how she has plotted against you. You need fear nothing from her. While I live, Miriam, I shall look after you; when I die, you will have money of your own."

"I had rather a thousand times you did not mention me. There is Major Dundas – he would make good use of your wealth. But Gerald – poor weak Gerald – "

"My mind is made up, Miriam. This will supplants the will in favour of Dundas, which is at my lawyers' in London. As soon as I send them this in its stead, the old will is to be destroyed. With the new year I intend publicly to proclaim Gerald my heir. Now come along to dinner – that is what I wanted to say to you."

She saw that all protestation was useless, supplication futile. Without a word she took his arm and returned to the drawing-room, there to find that Dr. and Mrs. Marsh had arrived meanwhile with Hilda, who was looking her best. Her mother was dressed untidily as ever, but there was also evident about her an air aggressive as it was unusual of splendour, significant of a desperate attempt on her part to make herself presentable. Dr. Marsh, in the immediate expectation of an uncommonly good dinner, saluted the Squire with positive unction, and an immediate adjournment to the dining-room met with his most unqualified approval.

To attempt to single out this Christmas dinner in particular from Christmas dinners in general would be a task as superfluous as unprofitable. Suffice it to say that Dr. Marsh's anticipations were more than realised, and that when the ladies left the room he was in a state of mind bordering upon the transcendental.

Barton, ever the most unconventional if not the most genial of hosts, took refuge in the seclusion of his library, and remained there for the rest of the evening. Chatter worried him, and that was the one spot in the world where he could depend upon enjoying complete immunity from it. But he had reckoned without his guest, for on this occasion Mrs. Darrow had decided he should come out of his shell, and was now casting about in her mind for some method of accomplishing her aim without risk to herself. It was rather more than she cared to venture upon in person. An expression came upon her face which seemed to intimate that she had an inspiration. Dicky! – yes, Dicky should go and ask his uncle to join what she termed the "circle." So away the boy sped on his errand of mercilessness, when of a truth he should have been in bed and fast asleep.

"If anyone can persuade uncle to play a game of forfeits, Dicky can," piped Mrs. Darrow, when the door had closed behind the little fellow; "he is such a dear, nobody can resist him – he has my own nature," this last in all seriousness.

"And your high spirits, Julia," added the Major.

"Yes, I never seem to lose them, though it's wonderful I don't in the face of my many trials. Miss Crane, you will sing to us till Mr. Barton comes, won't you?"

Miriam assented, with the result that song followed song, and the time flew by unheeded. As the clock struck eleven she rose quickly.

"Whatever has become of Dicky?" she said; "he can't be with Mr. Barton all this time. I must go and look for him."

She left the room hastily.

"Such a good creature!" exclaimed Mrs. Darrow. "If she only knew her place she would be quite perfect."

"I think Miss Crane is perfect," retorted the Major with some asperity.

"So say I," echoed Gerald.

At that moment Miriam appeared at the door, pale, terrified, and scarcely able to articulate. Mrs. Darrow saw that something was wrong, and shrieked,

"My child! my child! – my precious Dicky! Is he ill?"

Miriam shook her head, and beckoned to Marsh.

"Come, doctor, quick – Mr. Barton!" she gasped, and everyone made a rush for the door.

On entering the library they found the window wide open, and poor little Dicky lying prone upon the floor. In the chair before his desk sat Barton, with his head embedded in his outstretched arms. With another shriek Mrs. Darrow fell on her knees beside her son. Dr. Marsh walked swiftly up to Barton and raised his head. He stepped back a pace in horror.

"Dead!" he said. "The man is dead!"

Again they raised the lifeless head. A black line was distinctly visible round the throat.

"Strangled!" exclaimed the doctor. "He has been murdered!"

CHAPTER XV.

A NINE DAYS' WONDER

The murder of Barton made a considerable stir not only in the parish of Lesser Thorpe but throughout the county. From Southampton came the police to take charge of the body and the case; to discover, if possible, the murderer, and close the black chapter of the Squire's life. Barton had evidently been strangled about ten o'clock. Upon this Dr. Marsh insisted; the child had come into the library at half-past and had taken a fit from fright. Half an hour later they had both been found. The window was open, there were confused footmarks on the terrace, and the assassin – whoever he was – had had ample time in which to effect his escape. On such evidence did the police begin to build up their case. Needless to say that they were completely unsuccessful.

But the strangest part of the whole strange business was, that the will in favour of Gerald had disappeared. And upon this disappearance Mrs. Darrow, if no one else, was inclined to base the motive for the crime. Her mouth was now no longer closed – the only person who could close it was dead – and she was not long in venting her spite on Miriam. Communication with Barton's lawyers had elicited the fact that a new will had been executed by their client a day or two before his death. The old will in favour of Dundas still remained in their office. But although search was made everywhere for the more recent document, it could not be found. No one at the Manor House had seen it, Miriam alone having done so, but she thought it best to keep her own counsel; and indeed she was only too pleased to think that Gerald would now be compelled to earn his own living.

As soon as the will leaving the property to Major Dundas was read, and Mrs. Darrow learned that her three hundred a year was secure for life, she sent for Miriam. The moment of her triumph and revenge had arrived, and she determined to make the most of it. Throned in an arm-chair she threw off all disguise, and received her governess like the culprit she held her to be.

"You wish to see me, Mrs. Darrow," said Miriam quietly. She knew pretty well what was coming.

"Yes, Miss Crane, I sent for you to request that you leave my house to-morrow."

"I am quite willing to go," replied Miriam quietly; "indeed, if you wish it, I can go to-day."

"You will go when I please, and not before," cried the widow quivering with petty spite, for Miriam's impassiveness exasperated her beyond endurance. "And be good enough to remember that while you are here you are my servant. You forget yourself. Because Mr. Barton engaged you is no excuse for the insolence to which you treat me. I am of course not liable for your money."

"In that case, Mrs. Darrow, I must apply to Major Dundas, as Mr. Barton's heir."

"Oh, I daresay you will," sneered Mrs. Darrow, "but there is no chance there; I know your tricks and your sly deceit. You think you'll catch him, but you shan't, not if I can help it. The county gaol – not the Manor House – is the proper place for young women of your stamp!"

"If you have nothing more to say I will go," said Miriam, keeping her temper wonderfully well under the woman's insults.

"But I have more to say. Don't be insolent, I tell you. I hold you in the hollow of my hand."

"What do you mean?" asked Miriam imperiously.

"Mean! you know well enough what I mean. You know you were in love with Gerald Arkel and tried your best to marry him; and as Hilda Marsh beat you and upset your little plans, you thought you would steal the will so that her husband should not get the property. Yes you did – and you are Mr. Barton's murderer – that's what I mean!"

"You must be mad!" gasped Miriam, thunder-struck. "I gave my evidence at the inquest as everyone else did; and the jury brought in a verdict that Mr. Barton had been murdered by some person unknown. You know what you say is a dastardly falsehood. I was in the drawing-room singing when Mr. Barton met his death; and Dicky saw the body half an hour before I did. I found the poor child in a fit, and rushed back to call you all. How dare you make such accusations against me – dare to say that I killed one of the few men who have been kind to me?"

"Oh, I daresay there are plenty of men who have been kind to you," scoffed Mrs. Darrow venomously. "We know all about that, Miss Crane – if Crane is your name, which I very much doubt. But I don't want your infamous London life dragged up here, thank you!"

"Mrs. Darrow," cried Miriam in a cold fury, "if you dare to slander me in this way I will bring you into Court to prove your charges."

"Do – do. It's what I wish. I have held my tongue so long for my dead uncle's sake, but no longer now, my young lady – no, I go straight to the inspector of police."