Page:Once a Week Volume 8.djvu/43

. 3, 1863.] me on one side and told me everything was all right, and his friend was sure to get off. He said he was quite overpowered with the good news, and particularly begged that he might not be disturbed by any one, as he thought he could sleep now. He had hardly slept a wink all the time. I promised not to disturb him, and he lay quite quiet all night. I peeped in once or twice to make sure he was there, but did not speak. I noticed a faint smell like peaches once, but did not think anything of it. In the morning I went in to take him his breakfast, and found him dead and quite cold. In his hand was a little bottle which had contained prussic acid, and which had evidently come out of a pocket medicine chest that lay on the bed. I gave the alarm, and the divisional surgeon was sent for, but he was stone dead. At about nine o’clock the Baron’s servant came round to know whether he had left a pocket medicine chest the night before. I questioned the servant, and found the Baron had given him a list of the places where he had been, and that he had asked at several already. The medicine chest wanted, proved to be the one found in Mr. Anderton’s room. On the pillow I found also a piece of paper in Mr. Anderton’s handwriting, of which I enclose a copy.

Let no man condemn me for what I do. God knows how I have fought against it. My darling! my own darling! have I not seen you night and day by my side beckoning me to come? Not while a chance remained. Not while there was one hope left to escape this doom of hideous disgrace which dogs me to the death. No, darling, my honour—your husband’s honour before all. It is over now. No chance—no hope—only ignominy, shame, death. I come, darling. You know whether I am guilty of this horrible charge. My darling—my own darling—I see you smile at the very thought. God bless you for that smile. God pardon me for what I am about to do. God reunite us, darling.

a bower the womb I left, ’Midst dames and maids who stood to aid; They wrapp’d me first in silken weft, And next in scarlet red array’d.

But a stepdame soon ’twas my lot to get, And fierce and wild she prov’d to me; Within a coffer me she set, And push’d it out upon the sea.

By one wave I was borne to land, And by the next away was ta’en; But God on High, it seems, had plann’d, That I should footing there obtain.

The tide it drove me to the shore, And in its backward course retook; Sure ne’er had child of king before Such buffeting on sea to brook.

But God He help’d me, so that I Was cast above the billows’ reach; And soon a savage wolf drew nigh, Was prowling on the sandy beach.

Soon prowling came a wolf so gray, And me up-taking in his jaws, He carried me with care away Deep, deep into the forest shaws.

That self-same wolf he was so kind That me beneath a tree he laid; And then came running a nimble hind, And me unto its lair convey’d.

There me for winter one she nurs’d— She nurs’d me for two winters’ space. To creep, to creep, I learnt at first, And next I learnt to pace, to pace.

And I was full eight years, I wot, Within the quiet, green retreat. Close couch’d beside the hind I got Full many a slumber calm and sweet.

I had clothes and shelter of no kind, Except the linden green alone; And, save the gentle forest hind, Had nurse and foster-mother none.

But forth on courser reeking hot There rush’d a knight of bearing bold, And he my foster-mother shot With arrow on the verdant wold.

He pierc’d the hind with mortal wound, And all our fond connection cut; Then wrapp’d his cloak my frame around, And me within his buckler put.

That self-same knight, so bold and strong, Within his bower the foundling bred He tended me both well and long, And finally his bride he made.

He had by long inquiry found My father was a noble count In Vendel’s land, who castles own’d, And rul’d o’er many a plain and mount.

The first night we together slept Was fraught with woe of darkest hue; Foes, whom he long at bay had kept, Broke in on us, and him they slew.

The night we lay together first A deed of horror was fulfill’d; The bride-house door his foemen burst, And in my arms my husband kill’d.

Soon, soon, my friends to counsel go, A husband new they chose for me; The cloister’s prior of mitred brow— The good Sir Nilaus styl’d was he.

But soon as I the threshold cross’d, The nuns could not their fury smother; They vow’d by God and all His Host, The Prior Nilaus was my brother.

Forth from the cloyster him they drew, They pelted him to death with stones; I stood close by, and all could view: I scarce could bear his piteous moans.

Once more my friends to counsel hied, For me another spouse they get— Son of the King of England wide Was he, and hight Sir Engelbret.

Nine winters with that princely youth I liv’d; of joy we had no dearth, I tell to ye, for sooth and truth, To ten fair sons that I gave birth.

But pirate crews the land beset, No one, no one, my grief could tell;