LORD OAKBURN’S DAUGHTERS.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE."
CHAPTER I.THE ARRIVAL.
A small country town in the heart of England was the scene some few years ago of a sad tragedy. I must ask my readers to bear with me while I relate it. These crimes, having their rise in the evil passions of our nature, are not the most pleasant for the pen to record; but it cannot be denied that they do undoubtedly bear for many of us an interest amounting well nigh to fascination. I think the following account of what took place will bear such an interest for you.
South Wennock, the name of this place, was little more than a branch or offshoot of Great Wennock, a town of some importance, situated at two miles’ distance from it. The lines of rail from London and from other places, meeting at Great Wennock did not extend themselves to South Wennock, consequently any railway travellers arriving at the large town, had to complete their journey by the omnibus if they wished to go on to the small one.
The two miles of road which the omnibus had to traverse were about the worst to be met with in a civilized country. When it, the omnibus, had jolted its way over this road, it made its entrance to South Wennock in the very middle of the town. South Wennock might be said to consist of one long, straggling street, called High Street. Much building had been recently added to both ends of this old street. At the one end the new buildings, chiefly terraces and semi-detached houses, had been named Palace Street, from the fact that the way led to the country palace of the bishop of the diocese. The new buildings at the other end of High Street were called the Rise, from the circumstance that the ground rose there gradually for a considerable distance; and these were mostly detached villas, some small, some large.
On the afternoon of Friday, the 10th of March, 1848, the railway omnibus, a cramped vehicle constructed to hold six, came jolting along its route as usual. South Wennock lay stretched out in a line right across it in front, for the road was at a right angle with the town, and could the omnibus have dashed on without reference to houses and such-like slight obstructions, as a railway engine does, it would have cut the town in half, leaving part of High Street and the Rise to its right, the other part and Palace Street to its left.
The omnibus was not so fierce, however. It drove into High Street by the accustomed opening, turned short round to the left, and pulled up a few yards further at its usual place of stoppage, the Red Lion Inn. Mrs. Fitch, the landlady, an active, buxom dame with a fixed colour in her cheeks, and a bustling, genial manner, came hastening out to receive the guests it might have brought.
It had brought only a young lady and a trunk: and the moment Mrs. Fitch cast her eyes on the former’s face, she thought it the most beautiful she had ever looked upon.
“Your servant, miss. Do you please to stay here?”
“For a short time, while you give me a glass of wine and a biscuit,” was the reply of the traveller: and the tone, accent, and manner were unmistakeably those of a gentlewoman. “I shall be glad of the refreshment, for I feel exhausted. The shaking of the omnibus has been terrible.”
She was getting out as she spoke, and something in her appearance more particularly attracted the attention of Mrs. Fitch, as the landlady helped her down the high and awkward steps, and marshalled her in-doors.
“Dear ma'am, I beg your pardon! It does shake, that omnibus—and you not in a condition to bear it! And perhaps you have come far besides, too! You shall have something in a minute. I declare I took you for a young unmarried lady.”
“If you happen to have any cold meat, I would prefer a sandwich to the biscuit,” was all the reply given by the traveller.
She sat down in the landlady’s cushioned chair, for it was to her own parlour Mrs. Fitch had conducted her, untied her bonnet, and threw back the strings. The bonnet was of straw, trimmed with white ribbons, and her dress and mantle were of dark silk. Never was bonnet thrown back from a more lovely face, with its delicate bloom and its exquisitely refined features.
“Can you tell me whether there are any lodgings to be had in South Wennock?” she inquired, when the landlady came in again with the sandwiches and wine.
“Lodgings?” returned Mrs. Fitch. “Well, now, they are not over plentiful here; this is but a small place, you see, ma'am—not but what it’s a deal larger than it used to be,”