Newton Forster. Фредерик Марриет

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СКАЧАТЬ will be your sentence," replied the young lady, sobbing;—"such an awful, such a disgraceful death for a woman too!"

      "O Lord, O Lord!" cried Mrs. Forster, who was now really frightened.

       "What will become of me?"

      "You will go to another and a better world, as my papa says in his sermons; I believe that the pain is not very great—but the disgrace—"

      Mrs. Forster burst into tears. "Save me! save me, Miss Dragwell!—Oh! Oh! that stupid Nicholas, Oh! Oh!"

      "My dear Mrs. Forster, we have all agreed at the parsonage that there is but one method."

      "Name it, my dear Miss Dragwell, name it!" cried Mrs. Forster, imploringly.

      "You must pretend to be mad, and then there will be a verdict of insanity; but you must carry it through everything, or it will be thought you are shamming. Mr. Ramsden is acquainted with Dr. B—, who has charge of the asylum at D—. It is only nine miles off: he will take you there, and when the coroner's inquest is over you can return. It will be supposed then to have been only temporary derangement. Do you like the proposal?"

      "Why, I have been mad for a long time," replied Mrs. Forster; "the conduct of my husband and my son has been too much for my nerves; but I don't like the idea of actually going to a madhouse. Could not—"

      "O dear, marm!" cried Betsy, running into the room, "there's a whole posse of people about the house; they want to take you to the town jail, for murdering Mr. Spinney. What shall I say to them? I'm feared they'll break in."

      "Go and tell them that Mrs. Forster is too ill to be taken out of bed, and that she is out of her senses—d'ye hear, Betsy, tell them all she is stark staring mad!"

      "Yes, I will, marm," replied Betsy, wiping her eyes as she left the room.

      Miss Dragwell walked to the window. Although the report spread by Betsy had collected a crowd opposite the house, still there was no attempt at violence.

      "I'm afraid that it's too late," said the young lady, turning from the window. "What a crowd! and how angry they seem to be! you must be hanged now!"

      "O no! I'll be mad—I'll be anything, my dear Miss Dragwell."

      "Well, then, we must be quick—don't put your gown on—petticoats are better—I'll dress you up." Miss Dragwell rummaged the drawers, and collecting a variety of feathers and coloured ribbons, pinned them over the bandages which encircled Mrs. Forster's head; then pulling out a long-tailed black coat of her husband's which had been condemned, forced her arms through it, and buttoned it in front. "That will do for the present," cried Miss Dragwell; "now here's the cat, take it in your arms, go to the window, and nurse it like a baby. I'll throw it open—you come forward and make them a curtsey; that will spread the report through the town that you are mad, and the rest will then be easy."

      "Oh! I can't—I can't go to the window, I can't, indeed."

      "I'll open the window and speak to the people," said Miss Dragwell; and she threw up the sash, informing the gaping multitude that Mrs. Forster was quite out of her senses, but perfectly harmless.

      "Perfectly harmless, after killing a man!" observed one of the party below.

      "They won't believe me, Mrs. Forster; come, you must, or you will certainly be hanged."

      Urged by her fears, Mrs. Forster approached the window, and showed herself to the astonished crowd. "Curtsey to them," said Miss Dragwell, holding her handkerchief before her mouth.

      Mrs. Forster curtsied.

      "Smile upon them," continued the malicious young lady.

      Mrs. Forster grinned horribly.

      "Now dance your cat."

      Mrs. Forster obeyed the injunction.

      "Now give a loud shriek, and toss the cat out of window."

      Mrs. Forster uttered a hideous yell, and threw the animal at the heads of the spectators, who retreated with alarm in every direction.

      "Now burst into a fit of laughter, curtsey to them, and wave your hand, and that will be sufficient."

      Mrs. Forster obeyed the last order, and Miss Dragwell shut the window. In a few minutes the report spread that Mrs. Forster had gone out of her senses; and the murder of Mr. Spinney—a topic which was nearly exhausted—was dismissed for the time to dwell and comment upon the second catastrophe.

Chapter VIII

       Table of Contents

      "Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend which is the mightier."

       SHAKESPEARE.

      "So far we have succeeded, my dear Mrs. Forster," said Miss Dragwell; "I will now return home, and come back as soon as I can with the post-chaise. Mr. Ramsden's servant shall come with me to conduct you to the asylum, and I trust in a quarter of an hour to see you clear of these foolish people of Overton, who think that you are the party in fault: you had better remain in your room, and not appear again at the window; the crowd will disperse when they are tired of watching: good-bye, my dear Mrs. Forster, good-bye."

      Mrs. Forster was in too sulky a humour to vouchsafe an answer; and Miss Dragwell quitted the house. Betsy had taken advantage of the turmoil and the supposed lunacy of her mistress to gossip in the neighbourhood. Nicholas Forster was in the shop, but took no notice of Miss Dragwell as she passed through. He appeared to have forgotten all that had occurred, and was very busy filing at his bench. There we must leave him, and follow the motions of the mischief-loving Miss Dragwell.

      Upon her return, the party collected at the parsonage considered that they had proceeded far enough; but Miss Dragwell thought otherwise; she had made up her mind that Mrs. Forster should pass a day or two in the Lunatic Asylum; and she felt assured that Mr. Ramsden, through whose assistance her intention must be accomplished, would not venture to dispute her wishes.

      Her father, with a loud Ha, ha, ha! proposed that Mr. Spinney should appear as a ghost by the bedside of Mrs. Forster, wrapped up in a sheet, with a He, he, he! and that thus the diversion should end; but this project was overruled by Mr. Spinney, who protested that nothing should induce him again to trust himself, with a He, he, he! in the presence of Mrs. Forster.

      Ramsden, although well acquainted with Dr. Beddington, who had charge of the asylum, was not sure that he would be pleased with their freak, and earnestly dissuaded his intended from proceeding any further.

      "It is useless to argue, my dear George, I am Quixote enough to revenge the injuries of those who have been forced to submit to her temper; and moreover, I hope to effect a cure. Desperate diseases, you must be aware as a medical man, require desperate remedies. I consider that a termagant and a lunatic are during their paroxysms on a par, as rational behaviour in either party may be considered as a lucid interval. Let her, if it be only for one hour, witness herself reflected in the various distorted mirrors of perverted mind; and if she has any conscience whatever, good will spring from evil. I joined this plot from a love of mischief; but I carry it on from a feeling that favourable results will be produced."

      "But, СКАЧАТЬ