The Lost Lady of Lone. Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth

hat to leave the house.

CHAPTER VIII.

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A HORRIBLE DISCOVERY.

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      In order not to attract the attention of the crowds of people who swarmed in the village, on the bridge, and on the island, Lord Arondelle had driven over to the castle in a closed cab that now waited at the gates to take him back again.

      He left the library and went out into the great hall.

      The hall porter, an elderly, stout, and important-looking functionary, slowly arose from his chair to honor the young marquis by opening the doors with his own official hands instead of leaving that duty to the footman.

      And Lord Arondelle was just in the act of passing out when his steps were suddenly arrested.

      A wild and piercing shriek rang through the house, startling all its echoes!

      It was followed by a dead silence, and then by the sound of many hurrying feet and terrified exclamations.

      "Salome! my bride! Oh, what has happened!" thought the startled young marquis, rushing back into the hall and up the stairs.

      In the upper hall he found a crowd of terrified people, all hurrying in one direction—toward the bedroom of the banker.

      "The dear old gentleman has got a fit, I fear, and his daughter has discovered him in it," was the next thought that flashed upon the mind of the marquis as, without waiting to ask questions, he rushed through and distanced the crowd, and reached the door of the banker's bedroom, which was blocked up by men and women, wedding guests, and servants, some questioning and exclaiming, some weeping and wailing, some standing in panic-stricken silence.

      "What has happened?" cried the young marquis pushing his way with more violence than ceremony through all that impeded his entrance into the chamber.

      No one answered him. No one dared to do so.

      "It is Lord Arondelle—let his lordship pass," said one of the wedding guests, recognizing the expectant bridegroom as he entered the room.

      An awe-struck group of persons was gathered around some object on the floor; they made way in silence for the approach of the marquis.

      He passed in and looked down.

      Horror upon horrors! There lay the dead body of the banker, full-dressed as on the evening before, but with his head crushed in and surrounded by a pool of coagulated blood! The face was marble white; the eyes were open and stony, the jaws had dropped and stiffened into death. Across the body lay the swooning form of his daughter, with her bridal vail and robes all dabbled in her father's blood.

      "Heaven of heavens! Who has done this?" cried the marquis, a cold sweat of horror bursting from his pallid brow as he stared upon this ghastly sight!

      A dozen voices answered him at once, to the effect that no one yet knew.

      "Run! run! and fetch a doctor instantly! Some of you! any of you who can go the quickest!" he cried, as he stooped and lifted the insensible form of his bride and laid her on the bed—the bed that had not been occupied during the night. Evidently from these appearances, the banker had been murdered before his usual hour of retiring.

      "Who has gone for a doctor?" inquired Lord Arondelle, in an agony of anxiety, as he bent over the unconscious form of his beloved one.

      "I have despatched Gilbert, yer lairdship. He will mak' unco guid haste," answered the steward, who stood overcome with grief as he gazed upon the ghastly corpse of his unfortunate master.

      "My lord," said Lady Belgrade, who stood by too deeply awed for tears, and up to this moment for action either—"my lord, you had better go out of the room for the present, and take all these men with you, and leave Miss Levison to the care of myself and the women. This is all unspeakably horrible! But our first care should be for her. We must loosen her dress, and take other measures for her recovery."

      "Yes, yes! Great Heaven! yes! Do all you can for her! This is maddening!" groaned the marquis, smiting his forehead as he left the bedside, yielding his place to the dowager.

      "Do try to command yourself, Lord Arondelle. This is, indeed, a most awful shock. It would have been awful at any time, but on your wedding day it comes with double violence. But do summon all your strength of mind, for her sake. Think of her. She came to this room in her bridal dress to call her father, that he might get ready to take her to the altar, to give her to you, and she found him here murdered—weltering in his blood. It was enough to have killed her, or unseated her reason forever," said the lady, as she busied herself with unfastening the rich, white, satin bodice of the wedding robe.

      "Oh, Salome! Salome! that I could bear this sorrow for you! Oh, my darling, that all my love should be powerless to save you from a sorrow like this!" cried the young man, dropping his head upon his clenched hands.

      "My lord," continued Lady Belgrade, who was now applying a vial of sal ammonia to her patient's nostrils: "my dear Lord Arondelle, rouse yourself for her sake! She has no father, brother, or male relative to take direction of affairs in this awful crisis of her life. You, her betrothed husband, should do it—must do it! Rouse yourself at once. Look at this stupefied and gaping crowd of people! Do not be like one of them. Something must be done at once. Do what ought to be done!" she cried with sudden vehemence.

      "I know what should be done, and I will do it," said the young man, in a tone of mournful resolution. Then turning to the crowd that filled the chamber of horror, he said:

      "My friends we must leave this room for the present to the care of Lady Belgrade and her female attendants."

      Then to the dowager he said:

      "My lady, let one of your maids cover that body with a sheet and let no one move it by so much as an inch, until the arrival of the coroner. As soon as it is possible to do so, you will of course have Miss Levison conveyed to her own chamber. But when you leave this room pray lock it up, and place a servant before the door as sentry, that nothing may be disturbed before the inquest."

      Lastly addressing the stupefied house-steward, he said:

      "McRath, come with me. The castle doors must all be closed, and no one permitted to learn the arrival of a police force, which must be immediately summoned."

      So saying, after a last agonized gaze upon the insensible form of his bride, he left the room of horrors, followed by the house-steward and all the male intruders.

      The news of the murder spread through the castle and all over the island, carrying consternation with it. Yet the wedding guests outside, who were quite at liberty to go, showed no disposition to do so. They had come to take part in a joyous wedding festival—they remained, held by the strange fascination of ghastly interest that hangs over the scene of a murder—and such a murder!

      So, the crowd, instead of diminishing, greatly increased. Peasants from the hills around, who, having had no wedding garments, had forborne to appear at the feast, now came in their tattered plaids, impelled by an eager curiosity to gaze upon the walls of the castle, and see and hear all they could concerning the mysterious murder that had been perpetrated within it.

      The country side rang with the terrible story. And soon the telegraph wires flashed it all over the kingdom.

      The coroner hastened to the castle, inspected the corpse, and ordered that everything should remain untouched. He then empanelled a jury for the inquest, whose first session was held in the chamber of death, from which the suffering daughter of the deceased banker had been tenderly removed.

      Such among the guests who were not detained as witnesses, found themselves at liberty to depart.