SHE GRIFFITH GAUNT; OR, JEALOUSY. CHAPTER XXXIX. HE recoiled with a violent shudder at first; and hid her face with one hand. Then she gradually stole a horror-stricken side-glance. She had not looked at it a moment, when she uttered a loud cry, and pointed at its feet with quivering hand. "THE SHOES! THE SHOES! IT IS NOT MY GRIFFITH." With this she fell into violent hysterics, and was carried out of the room at Houseman's earnest entreaty. As soon as she was gone, Mr. Houseman, being freed from his fear that his client would commit herself irretrievably, recovered a show of composure, and his wits went keenly to work. "On behalf of the accused," said he, "I admit the suicide of some person unknown, wearing heavy hobnailed shoes; probably one of the lower order of people." This adroit remark produced some little effect, notwithstanding the strong feeling against the accused. The coroner inquired if there were any bodily marks by which the remains could be identified. "My master had a long black mole on his forehead," suggested Caroline Ryder. foul deed. We must now do our duty, gentlemen, without respect of persons." A warrant was then issued for the apprehension of Thomas Leicester. And, that same night, Mrs. Gaunt left Hernshaw in her own chariot between two constables, and escorted by armed yeo men. Her proud head was bowed almost to her knees, and her streaming eyes hidden in her lovely hands. For why? A mob accompanied her for miles, shouting, "Murderess! - Bloody Papist! — Hast done to death the kindliest gentleman in Cumberland. We'll all come to see thee hanged. - Fair face but foul heart!"-and groaning, hissing, and cursing, and indeed only kept from violence by the escort. And so they took that poor proud lady and lodged her in Carlisle jail. She was enceinte into the bargain. By the man she was to be hanged for murdering. CHAPTER XL. THE County was against her, with some few exceptions. Sir George Neville and Mr. Houseman stood stoutly by her. Sir George's influence and money ob'Tis here!" cried a juryman, bend- tained her certain comforts in jail; and, ing over the remains. And now they all gathered in great excitement round the corpus delicti; and there, sure enough, was a long black mole. Then was there a buzz of pity for Griffith Gaunt, followed by a stern murmur of execration. "Gentlemen," said the coroner solemnly, "behold in this the finger of Heaven. The poor gentleman may well have put off his boots, since, it seems, he left his horse; but he could not take from his forehead his natal sign; and that, by God's will, hath strangely escaped mutilation, and revealed a most in that day, the law of England was so far respected in a jail that untried prisoners were not thrown into cells, nor impeded, as they now are, in preparing their defence. Her two stanch friends visited her every day, and tried to keep her heart God's will be done. I am weary of the world." Houseman tried every argument to rouse her out of this desperate frame of mind; but in vain. It ran its course, and then, behold, it passed away like a cloud, and there came a keen desire to live and defeat her accusers. She made Houseman write out all the evidence against her; and she studied it by day, and thought of it by night, and often surprised both her friends by the acuteness of her remarks. Mr. Atkins discontinued his advertisements. It was Houseman, who now filled every paper with notices informing Griffith Gaunt of his accession to fortune, and entreating him for that, and other weighty reasons, to communicate in confidence with his old friend, John Houseman, attorney at law. Houseman was too wary to invite him to appear and save his wife; for, in that case, he feared the Crown would use his advertisements as evidence at the trial, should Griffith not appear. The fact is, Houseman relied more upon certain lacunæ in the evidence, and the absence of all marks of violence, than upon any hope that Griffith might be alive. The assizes drew near, and no fresh light broke in upon this mysterious case. he is now at a little inn in Lancashire, called the Packhorse,' with a woman he calls his wife." And, with this, her face was scarlet, and her eyes flashed their old fire. She exacted a solemn promise of secrecy from them, and then she told them all she had learned from Thomas Leicester. "And so now," said she, "I believe you can save my life, if you think it is worth saving." And with this, she be gan to cry bitterly. But Houseman, the practical, had no patience with the pangs of love betrayed, and jealousy, and such small deer, in a client whose life was at stake. "Great Heaven! madam," said he, roughly: "why did you not tell me this before?" "Because I am not a man - to go and tell everything, all at once," sobbed Mrs. Gaunt. Besides, I wanted to shield his good name, whose dear life they pretend I have taken." As soon as she recovered her composure, she begged Sir George Neville to ride to the "Packhorse" for her. Sir George assented eagerly, but asked how he was to find it. "I have thought of that, too," said she. "His black horse has been to and fro. Ride that horse into Lancashire, and give him his head: ten to one but he takes you to the place, or where you may hear of it. If not, go to Lancaster, and ask about the Packhorse.' He wrote to me from Lancaster: see." And she Mrs. Gaunt lay in her bed at night, showed him the letter. and thought and thought. Now the female understanding has sometimes remarkable power under such circumstances. By degrees Truth flashes across it, like lightning in the dark. After many such nightly meditations, Mrs. Gaunt sent one day for Sir George Neville and Mr. Houseman, and addressed them as follows: -"I believe he is alive, and that I can guess where he is at this moment." Both the gentlemen started, and looked amazed. "Yes, sirs; so sure as we sit here, Sir George embraced with ardor this opportunity of serving her. "I'll be at Hernshaw in one hour," said he, "and ride the black horse south at once." "Excuse me," said Houseman; "but would it not be better for me to go? As a lawyer, I may be more able to cope with her." "Nay," said Mrs. Gaunt, "Sir George is young and handsome. If he manages well, she will tell him more than she will you. All I beg of him is to drop the chevalier for this once, and see women with a woman's eyes and not a man's,see them as they are. Do not go telling a creature of this kind that she has had my money, as well as my husband, and ought to pity me lying here in prison. Keep me out of her sight as much as you can. Whether Griffith hath deceived her or not, you will never raise in her any feeling but love for him, and hatred for his lawful wife. Dress like a yeoman; go quietly, and lodge in the house a day or two; begin by flattering her; and then get from her when she saw him last, or heard from him. But indeed I fear you will surprise him with her." "Fear?" exclaimed Sir George. "Well, hope, then," said the lady; and a tear trickled down her face in a moment. "But if you do, promise me, on your honor as a gentleman, not to affront him. For I know you think him a villain." "A d-d villain, saving your presence." "Well, sir, you have said it to me. Now promise me to say naught to him, but just this: 'Rose Gaunt's mother, she lies in Carlisle jail, to be tried for her life for murdering you. She begs of you not to let her die publicly upon the scaffold; but quietly at home, of her broken heart.'" "Write it," said Sir George, with the tears in his eyes, "that I may just put it in his hand; for I can never utter your sweet words to such a monster as he is." Armed with this appeal, and several minute instructions, which it is needless to particularize here, that stanch friend rode into Lancashire. And next day the black horse justified his mistress's sagacity, and his own. He seemed all along to know where he was going, and late in the afternoon he turned off the road on to a piece of green and Sir George, with beating heart, saw right before him the sign of the "Packhorse," and, on coming nearer, the words THOMAS LEICESTER. He dismounted at the door, and asked if he could have a bed. He ordered a substantial supper directly. Mrs. Vint saw at once it was a good customer, and showed him into the parlor. He sat down by the fire. But the moment she retired, he got up and made a circuit of the house, looking quietly into every window, to see if he could catch a glance of Griffith Gaunt. There were no signs of him; and Sir George returned to his parlor heavyhearted. One hope, the greatest of all, had been defeated directly. Still, it was just possible that Griffith might be away on temporary business. In this faint hope Sir George strolled about till his supper was ready for him. When he had eaten his supper, he rang the bell, and, taking advantage of a common custom, insisted on the landlord, Thomas Leicester, taking a glass with him. "Thomas Leicester!" said the girl. "He is not at home. But I'll send Master Vint." Old Vint came in, and readily accepted an invitation to drink his guest's health. Sir George found him loquacious, and soon extracted from him that his daughter Mercy was Leicester's wife, that Leicester was gone on a journey, and that Mercy was in care for him. "Leastways," said he, "she is very dull, and cries at times when her mother speaks of him; but she is too close to say much." All this puzzled Sir George Neville sorely. But greater surprises were in store. The next morning, after breakfast, the servant came and told him Dame Leicester desired to see him. He started at that, but put on nonchalance, and said he was at her service. He was ushered into another parlor, and there he found a grave, comely young woman, seated working, with a child on the floor beside her. She rose quietly; he bowed low and re Mrs. Vint said yes; and supper into spectfully; she blushed faintly; but, the bargain, if he liked. with every appearance of self-posses |