And in the following sweet strains did Hawker address Carrington, when, as it would appear, the latter had indicated some sorrowing despondency: TO N. T. CARRINGTON. Hang not thy Harp upon the willow bough, But teach thy native echoes one more song!- Springs not the violet coarse weeds among, Hang not thy Harp upon the willow bough! Nor midst its silent chords the cypress twine! Long will the diamond slumber in the mine:- Whose scanty waters some few weeds confine, So may thy fame increase; may such lot be for thee. So, when the bird is warbling in the shade, And when the blossoms of the valley fade, Sing their fair praises ere they pass away :- A votary at her magic shrine be thou! And she, such fervent worship to repay Will place a palm on thy unvaunting brow So, hang thou not thy Harp upon the willow bough! Verily, "lovely Devonia, land of flowers and songs," and rich in her tin and copper, has contributed, largely, men of mind, as well as metal, to the aggrandisement of England's fame; and, in the matter of poets, two of the olden time may well be mentioned in conclusion of this chapter, viz., Sir Walter Raleigh, and William Browne the "water poet," who, in the beginning of the seventeenth century, twanged his fantastic lyre "by Tavy's straggling spring," Where, when he sat to sport him on a rock, BEECH LODGE. 66 I. ment. A QUIET Country village was one day the scene of considerable exciteThe churchyard was gradually emptying itself of a mass of human beings, for two funerals had taken place there; two bodies had been consigned to their parent earth till the grave should yield up its dead. One was that of the rector of the place, a man of years and sorrow; the other that of a young and lovely woman, and it was in the last that the attraction lay. A gentleman who had attended the funeral of the rector made his way, as the mob dispersed, towards the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Chavasse, the parents of the ill-fated young lady just interred. It was Mr. Ailsa. He had been called in to Mrs. Chavasse; for the fearful shock of her daughter's death had brought on an attack of paralysis. The medical men had no fears for her life, but they knew she would remain a paralysed cripple; that she had suddenly passed from a gay, middle-aged woman, to a miserable, decrepid old one. As Mr. Ailsa was passing down the stairs from her chamber, a door was pushed open, his hand was grasped, and he was pulled into the darkened parlour. It was by Mr. Chavasse, who tried to speak, but failed, and, sitting down, sobbed like a child. It was the first time they had met for years; for, since Ailsa's return, Mr. Chavasse had been away in Scotland, examining into some agricultural improvements, with the Earl of Eastberry, to whom he was land-steward. The news of his daughter's death had brought him home. "Oh, Ailsa, my dear friend, could you not have saved her?" "I was not her attendant," was Mr. Ailsa's reply. "Mr. Rice and Dr. Wilson no doubt did all they could; not to speak of her husband." "Is it true that she was getting well? I know nothing. I only reached here in time for the funeral, and my wife is not in a state to give me particulars, even if she knows them." "I hear that she was getting well. She had been ill, as you are probably aware, but had recovered so far as to be out of danger." "Entirely so?" "As Mr. Rice tells me." "And then she was taken suddenly with convulsions." Mr. Ailsa nodded. "And died. As the other wives had died." Mr. Ailsa sat silent. "Did you ever hear of three wives, the wives of one man, having been thus attacked? Did you ever hear of so strange a coincidence?" "Not to my recollection." "And that when they were recovering, as they all were, that they should suddenly die of convulsions ?" Mr. Ailsa looked distressed. "Do you know," added Mr. Chavasse, lowering his voice," the thought crossed my mind this morning to stop the funeral. But somehow I shrank from the hubbub it would have caused: and my grief held such full hold upon me. I said to myself, If I do cause an inquiry, it will not bring my child back to life." 66 "Very true," murmured Mr. Ailsa. "Had I arrived yesterday, perhaps I should have entered upon it: I am sure I should, had I been here when she died. Speak your thoughts, Ailsa, between ourselves: see you no cause for suspicion ?" "Cas "I do not like to answer your question," replied Mr. Ailsa. tonel is no personal friend of mine; I never spoke to him: but we professional men are not fond of encouraging reflections upon each other." "Have you heard of that business at Thomas Shipley's, about the child dying in the strange manner it did ?" "Mrs. Ailsa has heard the particulars from Mary; and Dame Vaughan seized hold of me the other day, and spoke of them." "Well, was not that a suspicious thing?" "I think it was a very extraordinary one. made up, But the medicine was and sent, by Mr. Rice, not by Mr. Castonel." "The fact is this, Ailsa. Each event, each death, taken by itself, would give rise to no suspicion; but when you come to add them together, and look upon them collectively, it is then the mind is staggered. I wish," added Mr. Chavasse, musingly, "I knew the full particulars of my child's death: the details, as they took place." "You surely can learn them from Mr. Castonel." "Would he tell ?" "Yes. If he be an innocent man." "If! Do you know," whispered Mr. Chavasse, "that they groaned at and hissed him in the churchyard to-day, calling him poisoner?" "No!" 66 They did. What a fool I was," he continued, wringing his hands, ever to let her have Castonel! It was my wife worried me into it. Ailsa, I must get at the particulars of her death-bed. I shall not rest till I do. If Castonel will not furnish them, I'll ask Mrs. Muff." Mr. Chavasse remained irresolute all the day. At the dusk hour he stole through the twilight to the house of his son-in-law. But Mr. Castonel had also stolen out somewhere, under cover of the night. The faithful upper servant and housekeeper of all the Mrs. Castonels came to him in the dining-room, and the two sat down and sobbed one against the other. "What did she die of?" groaned Mr. Chavasse. "Sir," said Mrs. Muff, "I know no more than you. When she went to bed, she was as well as I was, and ten times merrier, talking about a new cap she had bought, and the visitors she would see on the morrow. That was about half-past nine, and by eleven we were all a-bed in the house. In the middle of the night—if you killed me, I couldn't tell you the time, for in my flurry I never looked, but it may have been about two-their bedroom bell, the one which is hung by John's door on the top landing, in case Mr. Castonel is called out and wants him in the night, rang out such a dreadful peal, loud and long, as brought us all out of our beds; and master was shouting from his chamber. The others stopped to put a few things on, but I ran down in my night-clothes. Sir, in ten minutes, Mrs. Castorrel was dead." “How did she seem when you got to her? How did she look ?"" "She was writhing on the bed in awful agony, screaming and flinging her arms about. Mr. Castonel called it convulsions. I suppose it was. It was just as the other two poor young ladies went off. He was in a fine state, and threw himself on the body afterwards, and sobbed as if his heart would break." "Did she take anything in the night?" "Nothing, except some barley-water. She had drunk that, for the glass was empty." "Mrs. Muff," he whispered, taking her hand with a beseeching look, "do you feel that there has always been fair play?" "The merciful goodness knows, sir. I can't help asking myself all sorts of ugly questions, and then I am vexed at doing it. I know one thing; that it's an unlucky house, and as soon as to-morrow comes, I take myself out of it. I could not stop. Mr. Castonel owes me three months' wages, and if he says I have no right to them, for leaving without warning, why he must keep them. Hannah neither won't stay. I had hard work to make her remain for the funeral.” "You saw them all after death. How did they look ?" “I saw them all, and noticed nothing extraordinary. But Mr. Castonel had the coffins screwed down quickly.' 22 "Has anything ever happened to excite your suspicions?" "I cannot say it has. Though one circumstance has been much in my mind the last few days. The evening of the death of the first Mrs. Castonel, I and Hannah were seated in the kitchen when we heard a noise in the laboratory. I went to see, and there was Mr. Castonel, who must have stolen down stairs and gone in without noise. He had let fall one of the little drawers, and I saw a phial and a paper or two on the floor. He was in a fierce rage with me for looking in. But the curious part is, that he had always passed off that drawer for a dummy drawer." Mr. Chavasse did not speak. He listened eagerly. "And on the night of your poor daughter's death, sir, he had got that same drawer out again. John went in, and saw him with it, and Mr. Castonel to use the lad's words-howled at him and chivied him back again. What a odd thing it is, Mrs. Muff,' said he to me, that same evening, that I should always have took that drawer for a sham!' "Did you notice him at the drawer when his second wife died, poor Ellen Leicester ?" "No. But he may have gone to it every day of his life, without my seeing him. The curious point is, that he should have been seen at it on these two particular nights, and by neither of us at any other time. Oh, sir! whether it has been bad luck, or whether it has been anything worse, what a mercy if this man had never come near Ebury!" "It would have been a mercy," echoed poor Mr. Chavasse. On the following afternoon John was in the laboratory, when Mr. Rice and Mr. Tuck came in. "Here's a pretty state of things," exclaimed the tiger. "Mother Muff's gone off, and Hannah's gone off; leaving me, and master, and Ralph in the house, to do the work for ourselves." "Gone off!" echoed Mr. Rice. "What for?" "You must ask 'em that," returned the tiger. house smelt of poison." "Hannah said the "Psha!" exclaimed Mr. Rice. "Go with this mixture to Mrs. Major Acre's." "I tell you what," cried little Tuck, as John went out, "Mr. Castonel will find it no pleasant matter. It must be a dreadful cut-up to the feelings to have an inquiry pending whether you have not carried on a wholesale system of poisoning." "What do you mean?" cried Mr. Rice, staring at him. "Chavasse is bent on an inquiry. He has taken some suspicion in his head, about foul play. So the body is to come up, and an inquest to be held." "Mrs. Castonel's body?" cried Mr. Rice, quickly. "Nonsense!" “Mrs. Castonel the third. And if they find anything queer, Mrs. Castonel the second, and Mrs. Castonel the first, will follow. While they are about it, too, they may disinter that child of Mary Shipley's." "Where did you hear all this ?" demanded Mr. Rice, incredulously. "Oh, I heard it. Mr. Chavasse was wavering over it yesterday, but he has been at the Hall to-day, and laid his suspicions and information before Squire Hardwick. I say, you see this set of drawers ?" "Well?" resumed Mr. Rice, casting up his eyes. "There's something up, about that top one being a secret drawer and not a dummy; and they say it has got something inside it that won't do to be looked at." "I do not believe it is a drawer," observed Mr. Rice. "I never knew it was.' "Nor I," rejoined little Tuck. "Hand me the steps, will have a look." you. I'll Better "Let the steps alone, and the drawer too," said Mr. Rice. "Whether it's wrong or right, we need not draw ourselves into the affair. keep out of it." "Well, perhaps you are right. What do you think Mr. Francis Hardwick said ?" "I had rather not hear. How was old Flockaway?" "My!" ejaculated little Tuck. "I never went. I forgot it." "Then I'll go now. I suppose this gossip put it out of your head." "It did. I say though, Rice, isn't it a horrid go for Castonel ?" It must have been a "horrid go" for Mr. Castonel to hear this; and hear it he did, for he was seated outside the open window. Had he placed himself there to listen? No one had ever known him to sit down on that bench before. Mr. Rice left the house, and Mr. Tuck cast his eyes on the drawers. He was a good-natured, harmless little fellow, but liked to indulge his curiosity. "Shall I look, or shall I not ?" soliloquised he. "There's an old proverb that says 'Discretion is the best part of valour.' Oh, bother discretion! Here goes. There's nobody at home to see me." He set the steps against the case of drawers, and mounted up, hand outstretched. But at that moment a head and shoulders slowly rose before the window, and Mr. Tuck, in his fright, and the steps, nearly came down together. For it was Mr. Castonel. his eager |