Life in the Clearings Versus the Bush

by Susanna Moodie

  “Hannah came home to supper, and she was unusually agreeable, and took her tea with us in the kitchen, and laughed and chatted as merrily as possible. And Grace, in order to hide the wicked thoughts working in her mind, was very pleasant too, and they went laughing to bed, as if they were the best friends in the world.

  “I sat by the kitchen fire after they were gone, with the axe between my knees, trying to harden my heart to commit the murder; but for a long time I could not bring myself to do it. I thought over all my past life. I had been a bad, disobedient son – a dishonest, wicked man; but I had never shed blood. I had often felt sorry for the error of my ways, and had even vowed amendment, and prayed God to forgive me, and make a better man of me for the time to come. And now, here I was, at the instigation of a young girl, contemplating the death of a fellow-creature, with whom I had been laughing and talking on apparently friendly terms a few minutes ago. Oh, it was dreadful, too dreadful to be true! and then I prayed God to remove the temptation from me, and to convince me of my sin. ‘Ah, but,’ whispered the devil, ‘Grace Marks will laugh at you. She will twit you with your want of resolution, and say that she is the better man of the two.’

  “I sprang up, and listened at their door, which opened into the kitchen. All was still. I tried the door; – for the damnation of my soul, it was open. I had no need of a candle, the moon was at full; there was no curtain to their window, and it shone directly upon the bed, and I could see their features as plainly as by the light of day. Grace was either sleeping, or pretending to sleep – I think the latter, for there was a sort of fiendish smile upon her lips. The housekeeper had yielded to her request, and was lying with her head out over the bedclothes, in the best possible manner for receiving a death-blow upon her temples. She had a sad, troubled look upon her handsome face; and once she moved her hand, and said ‘Oh dear! ‘ I wondered whether she was dreaming of any danger to herself and the man she loved. I raised the axe to give the death-blow, but my arm seemed held back by an invisible hand. It was the hand of God. I turned away from the bed, and left the room; I could not do it. I sat down by the embers of the fire, and cursed my own folly. I made a second attempt – a third – and fourth; yes, even to a ninth – and my purpose was each time defeated. God seemed to fight for the poor creature; and the last time I left the room I swore, with a great oath, that if she did not die till I killed her, she might live on till the day of judgment. I threw the axe on to the wood heap in the shed, and went to bed, and soon fell fast asleep.

  “In the morning, I was coming into the kitchen to light the fire, and met Grace Marks with the pails in her hand, going out to milk the cows. As she passed me, she gave me a poke with the pail in the ribs, and whispered with a sneer, ‘Arn’t you a coward!‘

  “As she uttered those words, the devil, against whom I had fought all night, entered into my heart, and transformed me into a demon. All feelings of remorse and mercy forsook me from that instant, and darker and deeper plans of murder and theft flashed through my brain. ‘Go and milk the cows,’ said I with a bitter laugh, ‘and you shall soon see whether I am the coward you take me for.’ She went out to milk, and I went in to murder the unsuspicious housekeeper.

  “I found her at the sink in the kitchen, washing her face in a tin basin. I had the fatal axe in my hand, and without pausing for an instant to change my mind – for had I stopped to think, she would have been living to this day – I struck her a heavy blow on the back of the head with my axe. She fell to the ground at my feet without uttering a word; and, opening the trap-door that led from the kitchen into a cellar where we kept potatoes and other stores, I hurled her down, closed the door, and wiped away the perspiration that was streaming down my face. I then looked at the axe and laughed. ‘Yes; I have tasted blood now, and this murder will not be the last. Grace Marks, you have raised the devil – take care of yourself now!‘

  “She came in with her pails, looking as innocent and demure as the milk they contained. She turned pale when her eye met mine. I have no doubt but that I looked the fiend her taunt had made me.

  “‘Where’s Hannah?’ she asked, in a faint voice.

  “‘Dead,’ said I. ‘What! are you turned coward now?’

  “ ‘Macdermot, you look dreadful I am afraid of you, not of her.’

  “ ‘Aha, my girl! you should have thought of that before. The hound that laps blood once will lap again. You have taught me how to kill, and I don’t care who, or how many I kill now. When Kinnaird comes home I will put a ball through his brain, and send him to keep company below with the housekeeper.’

  “She put down the pails, – she sprang towards me, and, clinging to my arm, exclaimed in frantic tones –

  “‘You won’t kill him?’

  “‘By –, I will! why should he escape more than Hannah? And hark you, girl, if you dare to breathe a word to anyone of my intention, or tell to anyone, by word or sign, what I have done, I’ll kill you!’

  “She trembled like a leaf. Yes, that young demon trembled. ‘Don’t kill me,’ she whined, ‘don’t kill me, Macdermot! I swear that I will not betray you; and oh, don’t kill him!’

  “‘And why the devil do you want me to spare him?’

  “‘He is so handsome!’

  “‘Pshaw!‘

  “‘So good-natured!’

  “‘Especially to you. Come, Grace; no nonsense. If I had thought that you were jealous of your master and Hannah, I would have been the last man on earth to have killed her. You belong to me now; and though I believe that the devil has given me a bad bargain in you, yet, such as you are, I will stand by you. And now, strike a light and follow me into the cellar. You must help me to put Hannah out of sight.’

  “She never shed a tear, but she looked dogged and sullen, and did as I bid her.

  “That cellar presented a dreadful spectacle. I can hardly bear to recall it now; but then, when my hands were still red with her blood, it was doubly terrible. Hannah Montgomery was not dead, as I had thought; the blow had only stunned her. She had partially recovered her senses, and was kneeling on one knee as we descended the ladder with the light. I don’t know if she heard us, for she must have been blinded with the blood that was flowing down her face; but she certainly heard us, and raised her clasped hands, as if to implore mercy.

  “I turned to Grace. The expression of her livid face was even more dreadful than that of the unfortunate woman. She uttered no cry, but she put her hand to her head, and said, –

  “‘God has damned me for this.’

  “‘Then you have nothing more to fear,’ says I. ‘Give me that handkerchief off your neck.’ She gave it without a word. I threw myself upon the body of the housekeeper, and planting my knee on her breast, I tied the handkerchief round her throat in a single tie, giving Grace one end to hold, while I drew the other tight enough to finish my terrible work. Her eyes literally started from her head, she gave one groan, and all was over. I then cut the body in four pieces, and turned a large washtub over them.

  “‘Now, Grace, you may come up and get my breakfast.’

  “‘Yes, Mr. M—.’ You will not perhaps believe me, yet I assure you that we went up-stairs and ate a good breakfast; and I laughed with Grace at the consternation the captain would be in when he found that Hannah was absent.

  “During the morning a pedlar called, who travelled the country with second-hand articles of clothing, taking farm produce in exchange for his wares. I bought of him two good linen-breasted shirts, which had been stolen from some gentleman by his housekeeper. While I was chatting with the pedlar, I remarked that Grace had left the house, and I saw her through the kitchen-window talking to a young lad by the well, who often came across to borrow an old gun from my master to shoot ducks. I called to her to come in, which she appeared to me to do very reluctantly. I felt that I was in her power, and I was horribly afraid of her betraying me in order to save her own and the captain’s life. I now hated her from my very soul, and could have killed her without the least p
ity or remorse.

  “What do you want, Macdermot!” she said sullenly.

  “I want you. I dare not trust you out of my sight. know what you are, – you are plotting mischief against me; but if you betray me I will be revenged, if I have to follow you to – for that purpose.’

  “‘Why do you doubt my word, Macdermot? Do you think I want to hang myself? ‘

  “‘No, not yourself, but me. You are too bad to be trusted. What were you saying just now to that boy?’ “ ‘I told him that the captain was not at home, and I dared not lend him the gun.’

  “‘You were right. The gun will be wanted at home.’

  “She shuddered and turned away. It seems that she had had enough of blood, and shewed some feeling at last. I kept my eye upon her, and would not suffer her for a moment out of my sight.

  “At noon the captain drove into the yard, and I went out to take the horse. Before he had time to alight, he asked for Hannah. I told him that she was out, – that she went off the day before, and had not returned, but that we expected her in every minute.

  “He was very much annoyed, and said that she had no business to leave the house during his absence, – that he would give her a good rating when she came home.

  “Grace asked if she should get his breakfast?

  “He said, ‘He wanted none. He would wait till Hannah came back, and then he would take a cup of coffee.’

  “He then went into the parlour; and throwing himself down upon the sofa, commenced reading a magazine he had brought with him from Toronto.

  “‘I thought he would miss the young lady,’ said Grace. ‘He has no idea how close she is to him at this moment. I wonder why I could not make him as good a cup of coffee as Hannah. I have often made it for him when he did not know it. But what is sweet from her hand, would be poison from mine. But I have had my revenge!’

  “Dinner time came, and out came the captain to the kitchen, book in hand.

  “‘Isn’t Hannah back yet?’

  “‘No, Sir.’

  “‘It’s strange. Which way did she go?’

  “‘She did not tell us where she was going; but said that, as you were out, it would be a good opportunity of visiting an old friend.’

  “‘When did she say she would be back?”

  “‘We expected her last night,’ said Grace.

  “‘Something must have happened to the girl, Macdermot,’ turning to me. ‘Put the saddle on my riding horse. I will go among the neighbours, and inquire if they have seen her.’

  “Grace exchanged glances with me.

  “‘Will you not stay till after dinner, Sir?’

  “‘I don’t care,’ he cried impatiently, ‘a – for dinner. I feel too uneasy about the girl to eat. Macdermot, be quick and saddle Charley; and you, Grace, come and tell me when he is at the door.’

  “He went back into the parlour, and put on his riding-coat; and I went into the harness-house, not to obey his orders, but to plan his destruction.

  “I perceived that it was more difficult to conceal a murder than I had imagined; that the inquiries he was about to make would arouse suspicion among the neighbours, and finally lead to a discovery. The only way to prevent this was to murder him, take what money he had brought with him from Toronto, and be off with Grace to the States. Whatever repugnance I might have felt at the commission of this fresh crime, was drowned in the selfish necessity of self-preservation. My plans were soon matured, and I hastened to put them in a proper train.

  “I first loaded the old duck gun with ball, and putting it behind the door of the harness-house, I went into the parlour. I found the captain lying on the sofa reading, his hat and gloves beside him on the table. He started up as I entered.

  “‘Is the horse ready?’

  “ ‘Not yet, Sir. Some person has been in during the night, and cut your new English saddle almost to pieces. I wish you would step out and look at it. I cannot put it on Charley in its present state.’

  “‘Don’t bother me,’ he cried angrily; ‘it is in your charge, you are answerable for that. Who the devil would think it worth their while to break into the harness-house to cut a saddle, when they could have carried it off entirely? Let me have none of your tricks, Sir! You must have done it yourself!’

  “‘That is not very likely, Captain Kinnaird. At any rate, it would be a satisfaction to me if you would come and look at it.’

  “‘I’m in too great a hurry. Put on the old one.’

  “I still held the door in my hand. ‘It’s only a step from here to the harness-house.’

  “He rose reluctantly, and followed me into the kitchen. The harness-house formed part of a lean-to off the kitchen, and you went down two steps into it. He went on before me, and as he descended the steps, I clutched the gun I had left behind the door, took my aim between his shoulders, and shot him through the heart. He staggered forward and fell, exclaiming as he did so, ‘O God, I am shot!’

  “In a few minutes he was lying in the cellar, beside our other victim. Very little blood flowed from the wound; he bled internally. He had on a very fine shirt; and after rifling his person, and possessing myself of his pocket-book, I took off his shirt, and put on the one I had bought of the pedlar.”

  “Then,” cried Mr. Mac—ie, to whom this confession was made, “that was how the pedlar was supposed to have had a hand in the murder. That circumstance confused the evidence, and nearly saved your life.”

  “It was just as I have told you,” said Macdermot.

  “And tell me, Macdermot, the reason of another circumstance that puzzled the whole court. How came that magazine, which was found in the housekeeper’s bed saturated with blood, in that place, and so far from the spot where the murder was committed?”

  “That, too, is easily explained, though it was such a riddle to you gentlemen of the law. When the captain came out to look at the saddle, he had the book open in his hand. When he was shot, he clapped the book to his breast with both his hands. Almost all the blood that flowed from it was caught in that book. It required some force on my part to take it from his grasp after he was dead. Not knowing what to do with it, I flung it into the housekeeper’s bed. While I harnessed the riding-horse into his new buggy, Grace collected all the valuables in the house. You know, Sir, that we got safe on board the steamer at Toronto; but, owing to an unfortunate delay, we were apprehended, sent to jail, and condemned to die.

  “Grace, you tell me, has been reprieved, and her sentence commuted into confinement in the Penitentiary for life. This seems very unjust to me, for she is certainly more criminal than I am. If she had not instigated me to commit the murder, it never would have been done. But the priest tells me that I shall not be hung, and not to make myself uneasy on that score.”

  “Macdermot,” said Mr. Mac—ie, “it is useless to flatter you with false hopes. You will suffer the execution of your sentence to-morrow, at eight o’clock, in front of the jail. I have seen the order sent by the governor to the sheriff, and that was my reason for visiting you to-night. I was not satisfied in my own mind of your guilt. What you have told me has greatly relieved my mind; and I must add, if ever man deserved his sentence, you do yours.”

  “When this unhappy man was really convinced that I was in earnest – that he must pay with his life the penalty of his crime,” continued Mr. Mac—ie, “his abject cowardice and the mental agonies he endured were too terrible to witness. He dashed himself on the floor of his cell, and shrieked and raved like a maniac, declaring that he could not, and would not die; that the law had no right to murder a man’s soul as well as his body, by giving him no time for repentance; that if he was hung like a dog, Grace Marks, in justice, ought to share his fate. Finding that all I could say to him had no effect in producing a better frame of mind, I called in the chaplain, and left the sinner to his fate.

  “A few months ago I visited the Penitentiary; and as my pleading had been the means of saving Grace from the same doom, I naturally felt interested in her present sta
te. I was permitted to see and speak to her and Mrs. M—. I never shall forget the painful feelings I experienced during this interview. She had been five years in the Penitentiary, but still retained a remarkably youthful appearance. The sullen assurance that had formerly marked her countenance, had given place to a sad and humbled expression. She had lost much of her former good looks, and seldom raised her eyes from the ground.

  “‘Well, Grace,’ I said, ‘how is it with you now?’

  “‘Bad enough, Sir,’ she answered, with a sigh; ‘I ought to feel grateful to you for all the trouble you took on my account. I thought you my friend then, but you were the worst enemy I ever had in my life.’

  “‘How is that, Grace?’

  “‘Oh, Sir, it would have been better for me to have died with Macdermot than to have suffered for years, as I have done, the torments of the damned. Oh, Sir, my misery is too great for words to describe! I would gladly submit to the most painful death, if I thought that it would put an end to the pangs I daily endure. But though I have repented of my wickedness with bitter tears, it has pleased God that I should never again know a moment’s peace. Since I helped Macdermot to strangle Hannah Montgomery, her terrible face and those horrible bloodshot eyes have never left me for a moment. They glare upon me by night and day, and when I close my eyes in despair, I see them looking into my soul – it is impossible to shut them out. If I am at work, in a few minutes that dreadful head is in my lap. If I look up to get rid of it, I see it in the far corner of the room. At dinner, it is in my plate, or grinning between the persons who sit opposite to me at table. Every object that meets my sight takes the same dreadful form; and at night – at night in the silence and loneliness of my cell, those blazing eyes make my prison as light as day. No, not as day – they have a terribly hot glare, that has not the appearance of anything in this world. And when I sleep, that face just hovers above my own, its eyes just opposite to mine; so that when I awake with a shriek of agony, I find them there. Oh! this is hell, Sir – these are the torments of the damned! Were I in that fiery place, my punishment could not be greater than this.’