The Only Witness: what did she see?

Front matter

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Chapter I

country quarters. TT was a pretty place, but dull — desperately dull. ■»■ Yet what else could I have expected ? Coming down to Blisford as an utter stranger, without an acquaintance, or an introduction ; pitching my tent, so to speak, in the midst of the wilderness, ought I to have complained if I found my situation a very lonely one? My name is Arthur Valrin ; my age, when I first came to Blisford, was twenty-five, and I was a painter — of landscapes by choice, and of portraits by necessity. I was making a rambling tour in a little-visited part of England, in the hope of finding some new ground, some charming district which had hitherto been overlooked by tourists and artists ; for there are such spots to be found even in these days of much travelling. There may be nothing " grand " in their scenery, or anything B otherwise remarkable about them ; but they are pretty and picturesque, and sometimes they offer social attractions of an agreeable nature when you come to be well acquainted with them.

As it was, I foil in love with Blisford at first sight. I had never even heard of its existence. No special correspondent had ever come down to " write it up " ; no guide-book had described its beauties and anti quities. It was a quaint, irregular town. Every street was a hill, and every house a picture. There was nothing straight and nothing commonplace about it. It was a bit of old Belgium, or Normandy, or Saxony, planted down in the midst of an English county. And the surroundings of the town were as pretty as the town itself. Blisford's own special and particular hill was environed on all sides by other hills, and hills, of course, mean valleys, of which round and about Blisford there was a very labyrinth. A small winding river formed a semi-circle at the base of the town, and from every point of its meandering course some exquisite " bit " presented itself to the artist's admiring eye.

Here Blisford stood piled up in uneven masses of grey stone and red tiles, backed by a deep blue sky, traversed by snowy billows of cloud ; there you got a delightful " composition " in which the old grey ivy-clad tower of the parish church formed the central object, peepino' out of a bower of ash and elm and oak. But the Country Quarters. 11 scenic effects from that river bank were simply endless ; a new one met the eye at almost every step. It waa in the midst of this painter's paradise that I hastily resolved to settle down. The condition of my purse at that time did not, as the slang phrase goes, "run to " the expense of any long sojourn at an hotel, and it was difficult to find lodgings-. No one ever chose Blisford as a pleasure resort, though a mineral spring, even of the mildest medicinal properties, might have made its fortune as an inland watering-place.

But, at last, I struck a bargain with an elderly and portly dame, Mrs. Forsitt, for the occupation of a portion of her dwelling, consisting of a bed-room and sitting-room, together with the use of a sort of outhouse, with a good top light, for the purpose of a studio. Never shall I forget the first evening I spent in my new quarters. How I revelled in the occupation of that snug, cosy room, with its fine old oak paneling, its bay windows with diamond panes, looking out upon the prettiest of natural gardens stocked with a wealth of simple flowers ! It was a beautiful balmy summer evening too, and the crimson sunset touched the prominent points of the straggling street, bathing its irregular sky line in a roseate glow, and lending a certain beauty to the very chimney-pots. As I sat in a comfortable old armchair after my tea-supper, smoking my pipe and gazing through the open window upon the picturesque thoroughfare, the object meanwhile of quick, but wondering glances from the few passers by, I felt supremely contented and evolved innumerable schemes of work and simple pleasure.

The next day was also a great success. Tbe weather was as fine as before, and I had a delightful ramble by the banks of the pretty winding Bliss, where I selected several points for purposes of land scape, and even managed to rub in a sketch or two for subsequent elaboration. What a charming place it was ! The more I saw of it the better I was pleased with it. It was really quite a " find," and I longed for the companionship of some congenial spirit to share my enthusiastic admiration. My landlady was not much company. She was always ready for a gossip on the slightest encouragement, but readier than I was myself, sometimes. Her granddaughter, Effie, was a more agreeable com panion, but I saw little of her at first. She was a very pretty girl — more than pretty, in fact. She had a delicate white complexion, and soft fair hair that curled naturally at the temples, deep blue eyes, and a dainty little figure, while there was an air of refine ment about her beyond her station.

I longed to take her portrait as soon as I set eyes upon her, and resolved, at any rate, to put her into a picture when we should become better acquainted. Meanwhile, Effie was shy. She used to come and Country Quarters. 13 wait upon me when her grandmother was busy, but she never remained in my room longer than was absolutely necessary, and all attempts on my part to draw her into conversation were useless. She would stammer a half frightened reply, blush and — vanish. I did not, however, feel my solitude very deeply at first. That was to come later — that sense of loneliness in a quiet country town where I knew no living soul except my landlady and her pretty granddaughter. I got on well enough during the day with my painting and my explorations ; but the evenings, short as they were, hung heavily on my hands, as I don't happen to be a reading man, at least, to any great extent, and I am one of the most sociable of beings.

But it was a wet day that at last completed my sense of desolation, a day of persistent heavy rain from morning till night, when the gutters of steep Blisford were converted into rushing torrents and the streets were utterly deserted. So I sat moping indoors in my barn-like, but certainly spacious and convenient, studio, working up one of my many sketches; and as I plied my brush, the idea, and at last the resolve, became more and more fixed in my mind that I would shift my quarters and seek some livelier place of abode. Effie happened to pay me one of her little shy visits, for some small duty or other, while I was in this mood, and to her I made the first announcement of my determination. "Effie," I said, "tell your grandmother that I think I shall go at the end of the week." " Go ! " exclaimed Effie, and in such a tone that I could not help looking up from my work.

The girl seemed quite distressed, and shall I say that I was vain enough to feel a little gratified by the fact that my intended departure did not seem to please her ? " Yes," I replied ; " I have done all I wanted to do at Blisford. I did not mean to stay here long." "Very well, sir," said Effie, in a tone of submissive regret, and then she left the room. The next morning, however, was brilliantly fine, and I had a capital day's work as well as a most enjoyable walk among the hills, so I was tempted to remain a little longer in Blisford. And so for some days I vacillated, resolving to leave and yet loth to depart. It seemed as though I was being detained by the hand of fate. "Was it so ? Who can tell ? At any rate, I little thought at the moment when I finally decided to pack up my traps and quit Blisford with all its fascinations, that events were about to happen there which would render my visit to that dull, tranquil littfe town one of the most extraordinary and exciting episodes in the history of my life.

Chapter II. An Adventure

I" HAD resided at Blisford for nearly a month when -L an incident occurred which, together with its sequel, effectually settled the question whether I should go or stay. The final " notice " I had given to Mrs. Forsitt would expire on the following Monday, and this was Saturday evening. I had, so I thought, done my last day's painting, and I intended to spend the evening in the necessary task of packing up my belongings preparatory to my departure. It was not without a certain sinking of the heart that I looked forward to my farewell of Blisford and good-natured Mrs. Forsitt and pretty Effie. I was really sorry to leave after all. As it was, I sallied forth that evening for a final stroll through the town, to take a last look at its quaint old market-place and Early English parish church, and other picturesque " bits " of Blisford which were particular favourites with me.

Tlie Only Witness. 16 My lodgings were situated in a sort of suburb, on the brow of the hill, with the town on one side of the house and nothing but country on the other. The back windows commanded an extensive and beautiful prospect, while the front ones looked out on a by-road, whence it was only a few steps to the High Street, a long rambling thoroughfare, which wound about in so snake-like a fashion, up the steep hill on which it stood, that only a few yards of it could be seen at a time. The streets were usually almost deserted, and you never saw more than half-a-dozen persons walking to and fro at once, except on Wednesday — market day — when, of course, the place was lively enough ; and this, as I have said, was a Saturday. 1 was just about to turn out of the narrow lane which led from my part of the town into the High Street, when my ears were assailed by a very unusual noise.

It was the hubbub or muffled roar of a crowd of people all bawling or chattering at once, a general murmur with a sharp cry or shout rising now and then clear above the confused chorus, while, as I neared, with hurrying footsteps, the end of the lane, I caught the sound of a burst of loud, rude laughter, evidently proceeding from the throats of very rough people. So I was pretty well prepared for the sight that met my eyes when I had once emerged into the High Street. I found myself near the fringe of a crowd, and about as shabby and rough a crowd as ever I beheld in my life. All the riff-raff of the town seemed to have assembled, and they were huddled together and surging backwards and for wards in a mass, not stationary, but moving along very slowly, as though keeping pace with somebody or something in their midst.

Those who were outer most pressed upon the rest, rising on tip-toe and trying to look over their shoulders, and every now and then the whole mob paused for a moment and there was another roar of laughter, and then they all moved on again. " What's the matter ?" I asked a fellow who seemed endeavouring to find an opening in the crowd through which he could squeeze his body. " Eh, measter ?" replied the man. " Whoy, only Meesus Wilmut — droonk agean." A drunken woman in decorous Blisford struck me as a very extraordinary phenomenon, accustomed though I was to such a sorry sight in London, Man chester, and other large cities. " Is that all ?" I observed, preparing to pass the rough crowd and move on, never doubting but that the inebriate woman was some daughter of the lower classes, some low vulgar virago who would probably be rescued or " run in " sooner or later by one of the half-dozen constables that constituted the police force of quiet Blisford.

I noticed that the great bulk of the mob consisted of men and boys, but a few women hung about the edge of the crowd, and seemed to make no effort to penetrate into the centre. Just as I was turning away one of them came after me and took me by the arm. She looked like a decent labourer's wife, and her face was full of earnest indignation. " Oh, sir !" she cried ; " pray do yo interfere and help her — the poor lady. It is a shame, so it is, for them brutes to treat her so, and she a gentleman's wife too 1 " A lady ? and drunk ? This was startling news indeed, so much so that I could not help asking-— " Are you sure ? " " Yes, yes, sir," replied the woman. " It's Mrs. Wilmot, wife of the gentleman who owns the saw mill down yonder. She is quite a lady — though she do take a drop now and then.

Oh dear, sir, pray do help her ! " There could now be no doubt about the case or about my duty. I may say that I happen to be a bit of an athlete, in my way, though not much to speak of, but I have a pair of broadish shoulders and know how to box and wrestle a little, so I had not much difficulty in pushing my way through the rough throng and getting into the centre. Then I elbowed the fellows nearest to me and ordered them to get out of the way, and so cleared a space, in the midst of which I saw one of the most unpleasant sights I ever set eyes upon. There was a woman lying sprawling on the ground, in the dusty road, and a fine woman too. I saw at a glance that she was, as I had been told, a lady. She was tall, dark, and good looking, wore a fashionable hat with feathers, and a black silk dress.

She had in her hand a laced parasol, the handle of which was broken, while her watch hung loose at her waist at the end of a massive gold chain. Poor creature! She was evidently very far gone in liquor, for she looked dazed and besotted, her eyes were bloodshot and watery, and she swayed her head to and fro and muttered incoherently as drunken people do. She was rather a heavy woman, but I soon got her on to her feet, though I had to hold her up to prevent her from falling again. " What is your name, madam ? ", I asked, for I had not quite caught it, " and where do you live ? " I could make nothing of her reply. It sounded like " Wummel," and was followed by mutterings altogether unintelligible. By this time the woman who had first accosted me had made her way through tbe mob, and she said, " It is Mrs. Wilmot, I tell you, the wife of Mr. Laurence Wilmot, and she fives up at the red house — Winfield House they call it — at the other end of the town."

Of course I knew Winfield House well enough by that time. It was a rather large building, of pic turesque appearance, like most of the best houses in Blisford, and stood beyond the farther end of the High Street, in its own grounds, not more than a quarter of a mile distant. Still, even this short journey was not a pleasant or an easy one to make up the steep winding road of the High Street, with a drunken woman, hardly able to walk, in one's charge, and a mob of tag-rag and bob-tail at one's heels. However, I did my best. I grasped the unfortunate lady tightly round the body and managed to get her on step by step, while the roughs, though they gathered round us, at any rate abstained from im peding our progress. But it was a slow journey and a particularly disagreeable one, so I was heartily glad when the gabled roof and clustered chimney pots of Winfield House appeared in sight.

We had not quite reached the end of the High Street when I heard the sound of galloping hoofs behind me and, turning, saw that I and the crowd were being followed in hot haste by a horseman. In a moment he had come up to us, the crowd parted, and he leaped to the ground, throwing his horse's reins to a bystander. The new comer was a man — a gentleman — of about my own age or perhaps a little younger, a tall, handsome fellow, with fair hair, moustache and beard, and dressed in a suit of tweed. His name " Mr. Wilmot," shouted out by a score of voices, told me at onoe who he was— the husband of the unlucky lady whom I, in a sort of way, had been rescuing. He looked very angry — as was natural under the circumstances — but perhaps more ashamed and disgusted — as well he might be. He immediately relieved me of my burden, putting his arm round his wife's waist, but with no very loving touch, and at the sam9 moment said, in an abrupt but perfectly courteous manner, " I am very much obliged to you.

I am sorry you have had such trouble." " Don't mention it," I replied. " I am very glad to have been of any use." Mr. Wilmot was walking off with his wife, but I could not allow him to go without offering further assistance; so I followed and asked him to let me help him. " It is needless, " he replied. " I can manage her myself. But I would be glad if you would disperse these ragamuffins." I did what I could to carry out this request, and managed, at any rate, to keep the fellows at a distance. Then someone came to the gate of Win field House, and Mr. Wilmot and his precious wife passed in and I saw them no more. Well, I thought to myself, as I sauntered back down the High Street, this is a queer sort of adventure certainly. Who would have believed dull, respectable Blisford capable of such a Tlie Only Witness. sensational incident?

A drunken lady! Never before had I come across such a monstrosity. Then there was a fact that puzzled me greatly. The wife was a good deal older than her husband. I wondered how he came to marry her and what was their history. What, too, was likely to come of such a marriage ? There was a mystery about the whole affair which greatly excited my curiosity and caused me to reconsider my intention to leave Blisford. Why be in such a hurry to run away ? Might not something come of this adventure? It might even " lead to business," and open the way for me to a little society, which would render my residence in Blisford more tolerable. I bad heard from Mrs. Forsitt that the Wilmots were very well-to-do people, and, notwithstanding the drunkenness of the wife, might prove desirable acquaintances. I had done Mr. Wilmot a trifling service, and surely in common courtesy, for he seemed a very gentlemanlike fellow, he would not ignore my existence if we should chance to meet again.

So I thought I would postpone my parting, at any rate, till Monday, and even stay where I was for a day or two longer if I had any encouragement to remain. My confidence in the courtesy of Mr. Wilmot was destined to be confirmed even sooner than I had expected. I had not long finished my tea-supper, and was enjoying my evening pipe by the window which looked out upon the quiet street, when suddenly a tall figure passed which I at once recognised as that of the tipsy lady's spouse. A moment afterwards the door bell rang and then Mrs. Forsitt came in and announced " Mr. Wilmot." I rose and took the hand he offered me, and he grasped mine with a peculiarly friendly pressure. " I could not help calling to thank you for your kindness," he said, in a rather unsteady voice, as though struggling with some emotion.

" You helped, not indeed to save me from a great disgrace, but at any rate to shorten it. It was a brave and generous act on your part to break through such a rough mob and assist my wife." " Pray don't say anything about it," I replied. " It was a very simple affair. I am truly sorry to have had to assist in such a business, but I could not possibly do otherwise than what I did — it is really not worth mentioning. But, of course, I think it very good of you to call. Won't you take a seat and have " I was just going to offer him a glass of wine, but a peculiar twitch in his face, and a sort of slight frown, showed me that I had made rather a mistake. Naturally the idea of drinking anything at all would not be very pleasant to the poor fellow just then. Indeed, he said at once, "Thank you, no. Anything in the form of liquor — the very thought of it — is hateful to me.

I wish to Heaven there <vere no such thing in the town — or in the world ! " This seemed to me rather a strong view in the direction of teetotalism, but it was hardly surprising under the circumstances, so I thought it best to say nothing. There was an awkward pause for a few moments. Mr. Wilmot sat looking at the ground reflecting and frowning, but presently he remembered himself and said — "I beg your pardon, I am talking nonsense. It is, of course, absurd to want to abolish all drink for the sake of a few drunkards. However, don't let us talk about that. You are an artist, are you not ? " " Yes," I replied, " I am a painter." " Have you been here long ? " "A few days. It is a charming place. I wonder it is not better known. One could get a whole gallery of pictures out of it." " Have you painted many ?

" " Pretty woll. A few sketches, but nothing finished." " Do you mind showing me some ? " " Not at all, though I have hardly anything fit to be seen yet." I really have no affeotation about showing unfinished pictures, so long as I have a chance of explaining that they are only in the rough. So I produced some of my canvas and got Mrs. Forsitt to bring in an extra candle or two as well as the lamp, so as to show them up to advantage. •' You wrould see them — such as they are — better in the day time," I said. " Naturally," he replied. He examined my small collection, but did not say much about it. He was evidently no connoisseur, but he said of most of the pictures that they were "very good," or "very pretty." "Will you sell me one of these paintings ? " he asked. I hesitated a moment and looked at him.

He read my glance and smiled. " No," he said, " I don't want to pay you for your service to me. I really would like that picture. I see you have brought in part of my mill, so it ought to belong to me," After that I could not refuse to accept his offer ; but I purposely put a low price on the work, and he promised to send me a cheque at once, though I refused to take it till after the picture should be finished. " Very well," he said, " as you please. But I would be glad to have it soon, and may perhaps ask you to do something else for me." Do something else for him ! Ah ! I was destined to do a good deal for Mr. Wilmot, besides painting pictures for him. C

Chapter III

A FAMILY HISTORY. AFTER this Laurence Wilmot and I became fast friends. He evidently " took a fancy " to me, and not alone, I imagine, on account of the small service I had rendered him. Perhaps it was my hesitation in accepting his offer to buy my picture that gained me his favour. Certainly it was his delicacy in making that offer which impressed me most with the idea that he was a good fellow. I saw him pretty often, meeting him in the streets, or by the river side where I was painting in sight of his saw-mill, a big straggling building, yet not un sightly, which sent up a cloud of steam from its workshop now and then, but happily, no smoke. He would frequently, too, come and gossip with me while I was at work on his commission, and one wet day he dropped into my " studio " and spent the greater part of the afternoon with me.

Yet he never asked me to call upon him, nor did he make the slightest allusion to his wife or the disgusting scene of which she had been, so to speak, the "heroine." He usually talked on indifferent subjects, such as matters of small local interest, and the objects of beauty and antiquity in which the district abounded, and he would ask me many questions about my art and its practice, of which he knew very little, but in which he showed an intelligent interest. He had rather an odd manner. He seemed to me to have something on his mind. Though always an attentive listener, never mistaking or forgetting what one said to him, he often wore an air of abstraction, indicated by a knitting of the brows and a kind of dreamy look, as though he were thinking of some thing unpleasant. I guessed, of course, pretty well what the nature of his trouble was, but at that time I did not know all.

He did not offer me any hospitality, as I have said, but, at any rate, I found him an agreeable acquaintance, and I felt that, as regards matters social in Blisford, I was " getting on." Of course, I abandoned all idea of leaving the town, at any rate, for the present. Mrs. Forsitt was delighted at this alteration in my plans, and expressed her satisfaction in unmeasured terms. Effie, too, seemed pleased that I was going to stay, and became less shy and more animated in my presence. Indeed, we got on together so much better that I was encouraged at last to ask her to sit to me as a model for the figure in one of my landscapes. Effie was highly flattered, but a little confused, at my proposal. " I should like it very much," she said ; " but I never sat for my picture before, except when I had my photograph taken at Warchester.