Anne: A Novel

by Constance Fenimore Woolson

  CHAPTER XXXI.

  "All her bright hair streaming down, And all the coverlid was cloth of gold Drawn to her waist, and she herself in white All but her face, and that clear-featured face Was lovely, for she did not seem as dead, But fast asleep, and lay as though she smiled."

  --TENNYSON.

  EXTRACT FROM THE NEW YORK "MARS."

  "The following details in relation to the terrible crime with whose mainfacts our readers are familiar will be of interest at the moment. Theywere collected by our special reporter, sent in person to the scene ofthe tragedy, for the purpose of gathering reliable informationconcerning this case, which promises to be one of the _causes celebres_of the country, not only on account of the high position and wealth ofthe parties concerned, but also on account of the close net of purelycircumstantial evidence which surrounds the accused man.

  "TIMLOESVILLE

  is a small village on the border-line between Pennsylvania and Maryland.Legally in Pennsylvania, it possesses personally the characteristics ofa Maryland village, some of its outlying fields being fairly over theborder. It is credited with about two thousand inhabitants; but thepresent observer did not see, during his stay, more than about onethousand, including women and children. Timloesville is on a branchrailway, which connects with the main line at a junction about thirtymiles distant. It possesses two churches and a saw-mill, and was namedfrom a highly esteemed early settler (who may perhaps have marched withour great Washington), Judge Jeremiah Timloe. The agricultural productsof the surrounding country are principally hay and maize--wrongly calledcorn. The intelligence and morality of the community are generallyunderstood to be of a high order. A low fever prevails here in thespring.

  "TIMLOE HOTEL.

  "At the southern edge of the town, on the line of the railway, standsthe Timloe Hotel, presenting an imposing facade to the passengers on thetrains as they roll by. It is presided over in a highly liberal andgentlemanly manner by Mr. Casper Graub; it is, in fact, to the genialcourtesy of 'mine host' that much of this information is due, and wetake this occasion also to state that during all the confusion andexcitement necessarily accruing to his house during the present week,the high standard of Mr. Graub's table has never once been relaxed.

  "MR. GRAUB'S STORY.

  "An army officer, with his right arm in a sling, arrived at the TimloeHotel, accompanied by his wife, and a maid or nurse named Bagshot, onthe evening of June 10, at six o'clock precisely. The officer registeredthe names as follows: 'Ward Heathcote, Mrs. Heathcote and maid, NewYork.' He wrote the names with his left hand. A room was assigned tothem in the front part of the house, but upon the lady's objecting tothe proximity of the trains (generally considered, however, by themajority of Mr. Graub's guests, an enjoyable variety), another apartmentin a wing was given to them, with windows opening upon the garden. Thewing is shaped like an L. The maid, Bagshot, had a room in the bend ofthe L, she too having objected, although later, to the room firstassigned to her. At half past six o'clock they had supper; the ladythen retired to her room, but the husband went out, as he said, tostroll about the town. At half past eight he returned. At nine, Bagshot,having been dismissed for the night, went to her own room; when sheleft, Captain Heathcote was reading a newspaper, and his wife waswriting. It has since been ascertained that this newspaper was theBaltimore _Chronos_ of the 9th inst. At ten o'clock exactly CaptainHeathcote came down stairs a second time, passed through the office, andstopped to light a cigar. Mr. Graub noticed that he was able to use hisleft hand quite cleverly, and asked him whether he was naturallyleft-handed; Captain Heathcote answered that he was not, but had learnedthe use only since his right arm had been disabled. Mr. Graub, seeinghim go toward the door, thought that it was somewhat singular that heshould wish to take a second walk, and casually remarked upon the warmthof the evening. Captain Heathcote replied that it was for that veryreason he was going out; he could not breathe in the house; and he addedsomething not very complimentary to the air (generally consideredunusually salubrious) of Timloesville. Mr. Graub noticed that he walkedup and down on the piazza once or twice, _as if he wished to showhimself plainly to the persons who were sitting there_. He then strolledaway, going toward the main street.

  "THE OUTSIDE STAIRWAY.

  "As before mentioned, the second room given to Mrs. Heathcote was in awing. This wing is not much used; in fact, at the time, save this partyof three, it had no occupants. It is in the old part of the house. Apiazza or gallery runs across a portion of the second story, to whichaccess is had from the garden by a flight of wooden steps, or rather anoutside stairway. This stairway is old and sagged; in places the railingis gone. It is probable that Mrs. Heathcote did not even see it. ButCaptain Heathcote might have noticed it, and probably did notice it,from the next street, through which he passed _when he took his firstwalk before dark_.

  "MRS. BAGSHOT'S TESTIMONY.

  "As we have seen, Captain Heathcote left the hotel ostentatiously by thefront entrance at ten o'clock. At eleven, Mrs. Bagshot, who happened tobe looking from her window in the bend of the L, distinctly saw him (hercandle being out) _stealing up by the outside stairway_ in the onlyminute of moonlight there was during the entire evening, the cloudshaving suddenly and strangely parted, as if for that very purpose. Shesaw him enter his wife's room through one of the long windows whichopened to the floor. In about a quarter of an hour she saw him comeforth again, close the blind behind him, and begin to descend thestairway. As there was no longer any moonlight, she could onlydistinguish him by the light that shone from the room; but in that shortspace of time, while he was closing the blind, she recognized him_beyond the possibility of a doubt_.

  "THE NIGHT PORTER'S TALE.

  "A little before midnight, all the hotel entrances being closed save themain door, Captain Heathcote returned. As he passed through the office,the night porter noticed that he looked pale, and that his clothes weredisordered; his shirt cuffs especially were wet and creased, as _thoughthey had been dipped in water_. He went up stairs to his room, but sooncame down again. He had knocked, but could not awaken his wife. Wouldthe porter be able to open the door by turning back the key? His wifewas an invalid; he feared she had fainted.

  "THE TRAGEDY.

  "The night porter--a most respectable person of Irish extraction, namedDennis Haggerty--came up and opened the door. The lamp was burningwithin; the blinds of the window were closed. On the bed, stabbed to theheart, apparently while she lay asleep, was the body of the wife.

  "DUMB WITNESSES.

  "Red marks were found on the shutter, which are pronounced by experts tobe the partial print of a _left hand_. On the white cloth which coveredthe bureau is a slight impression of finger-tips, also belonging to aleft hand. These marks are too imperfect to be relied upon inthemselves, save that they establish the fact that the hand whichtouched the cloth and closed the shutter was a _left hand_.

  "AN IMPROBABLE STORY.

  "Captain Heathcote asserts that he left the hotel at ten, as testified,to smoke a cigar and get a breath of fresh air. That he returned throughthe garden at eleven, and seeing by the bright light that his wife wasstill awake, he went up by the outside stairway, which he had previouslynoted, entered the room through the long window to tell her that he wasgoing to take a bath in the river, and to get towels. He remained a fewminutes, put two towels in his pocket, and came out, going down the samestairway, across the garden, and along the main road to the river. (Atrack, however, has been found to the river through the large meadowbehind the house.) At the bend where road and river meet, he undressedhimself and took a bath. The disorder in his clothing and his wet cuffscame from his own awkwardness, as he has but partial use of his rightarm. He then returned by the road as he had come, but he _forgot thetowels_. Probably they would be found on the bank where he left them.

  "THE TOWEL.

  "No towels were found at the point named. But at the end of the trackthrough the grass meadow, among the reeds on the shore, a towel _was
_found, and identified as one belonging to the hotel. This towel is_stained with blood_.

  "THE THEORY.

  "The theory at Timloesville is that Heathcote had no idea that he wouldbe seen when he stole up that outside stairway. He knew that the entirewing was unoccupied: a servant has testified that she told him it was;and he thought, too, that the maid Bagshot had a room in front, notcommanding the garden. Bagshot says that the room was changed withouthis knowledge, while he was absent on his first walk. He supposed, then,that he would not be seen. He evidently took Mrs. Heathcote's diamondrings, purse, and watch (they are all missing) in order to turn publicopinion toward the idea that the murder was for the sake of robbery. He_says_ that a man passed him while he was bathing, and spoke to him;proof of this would establish something toward the truth of his story.But, strangely enough, this man can not be found. Yet Timloesville andits neighborhood are by no means so crowded with inhabitants that thesearch should be a difficult one.

  "It may be regarded as a direct misfortune in the cause of justice thatthe accused heard any of Bagshot's testimony against him before he wascalled upon to give his own account of the events of the evening. Andyet his confused, contradictory story is another proof of the incapacitywhich the most cunning murderers often display when overtaken bysuspicion; they seem to lose all power to protect themselves. If CaptainHeathcote had denied Bagshot's testimony in toto, had denied havingascended the outside stairway at all, his chances would have been muchbrighter, for people might have believed that the maid was mistaken. Buthe _acknowledges the stairway_, and then denies the rest.

  "HIS MOTIVE.

  "But how can poor finite man detect so obscure a thing as motive? Hemust hide his face and acknowledge his feebleness when he stands beforethis inscrutable, heavy-browed, silent Fate. In this case, two solutionsare offered. One, that the wife's large fortune was left by willunconditionally to her husband; the other, that Mrs. Bagshot willtestify that there was jealousy and ill feeling between these two,linked together by God's holy ordinance, and that this ill feeling wasconnected with a third person, and that person--a woman."

  EXTRACT FROM THE NEW YORK "ZEUS."

  "Mrs. Heathcote was apparently murdered while asleep. When found, herface wore a natural and sweet expression, as though she had passed fromslumber into death without even a sigh. The maid testifies that hermistress always removed her rings at night; it is probable, therefore,that they, together with her purse and watch, were on the bureau wherethe marks of the finger-tips were found.

  "We refrain at present from comment upon the close circumstantialevidence which surrounds this case; the strong hand of the law will takehold of it at the proper time, and sift it thoroughly. Meanwhile theattitude of all right-minded persons should be calm and impartial, andthe accused man should be held innocent until he is proven guilty. Trialby newspaper is one of the notable evils of our modern American system,and should be systematically discountenanced and discouraged; when ahuman life is trembling in the balance, the sensation-monger should besilenced, and his evil wares sternly rejected."

  * * * * *

  This negative impartiality was the nearest approach to friendlinesswhich the accused man received from the combined newspaper columns ofNew York, Baltimore, and Washington.

  The body of poor Helen was brought home, and Miss Teller herself arrayedher darling for her long repose. Friends thronged to see her as she layin her luxurious drawing-room; flowers were placed everywhere as thoughfor a bridal--the bridal of death. Her figure was visible from head tofoot; she seemed asleep. Her still face wore a gentle expression of restand peace; her small hands were crossed upon her breast; her unboundhair fell in waves behind her shoulders, a few strands lying on thewhite skirt far below the slender waist, almost to the feet. The longlashes lay upon the oval cheek; no one would ever see those bright browneyes again, and find fault with them because they were too narrow. Thelithe form was motionless; no one would ever again watch it move onwardwith its peculiar swaying grace, and find fault with it because it wastoo slender. Those who had not been willing to grant her beauty in life,gazed at her now with tear-dimmed eyes, and willingly gave all the meedof praise they had withheld before. Those who had not loved her whileshe lived, forgot all, and burst into tears when they saw her now, thedelicately featured face once so proud and imperious, quiet forever,grown strangely youthful too, like the face of a young girl.

  Miss Teller sat beside her darling; to all she made the same set speech:"Dear Ward, her husband, the one who loved her best, can not be here. Iam staying with her, therefore, until she is taken from us; then I shallgo to him, as _she_ would have wished." For Miss Teller believed no wordof the stories with which the newspapers teemed. Indignation and strongaffection supplied the place of whatever strength had been lacking inher character, and never before in her life had she appeared as resoluteand clear-minded as now.

  During the funeral services, Isabel Varce sat beside Miss Teller,sobbing as if her heart would break. Rachel Bannert was next to Isabel.She had looked once at Helen, only once, and her dark face had quiveredspasmodically; then she also took her seat beside the fair, still form,and bowed her head. All Helen's companions were clad in mourning garb;the tragedy of this death had invested it with a deeper sadness thanbelonged to the passing away in the ordinary course of nature of evencloser friends. The old-fashioned mansion was full to overflowing; inthe halls and doorway, on the front steps, and even on the pavementoutside, men were standing, bare-headed and silent, many distinguishedfaces being among them; society men also, who in general avoidedfunerals as unpleasant and grewsome ceremonials. These had been Helen'scompanions and friends; they had all liked and admired her, and as shewas borne past them, covered with heliotrope, there was not one whoseeyes did not grow stern in thinking of the dastard hand that did thecruel deed.

  That night, when darkness fell, many hearts remembered her, lying alonein the far-off cemetery, the cemetery we call Greenwood, although nowood made by Nature's hand alone bears the cold white marble flowerswhich are found on those fair slopes. And when the next morning dawned,with dull gray clouds and rain, there were many who could not helpthinking of the beautiful form which had fared softly and delicately allits life, which had felt only the touch of finest linen and softestsilk, which had never suffered from the cold or the storm, now lyingthere alone in the dark soaked earth, with the rain falling upon itsdefenseless head, and no one near to replace the wet lilies which thewind had blown from the mound.

  But those who were thinking thus were mistaken: some one was near. Agirl clad in black and closely veiled stood beside the new-made grave,with tears dropping on her cheeks, and her hand pressed over her heart.There were many mourners yesterday; there was but one to-day. There weremany flowers then; now there was only the bunch of violets which thisgirl had brought. She had knelt beside the mound, her head undefendedfrom the rain, and had prayed silently. Then she had risen, but stillshe could not go. She paced slowly up and down beside the grave, like asentinel keeping watch; only when she perceived that one of the menemployed in the cemetery was watching her curiously, no doubt wonderingwhy she remained there in the storm, did she turn away at last, and gohomeward again by the long route she had traversed in coming.

  For Anne had not dared to go to the funeral; had not dared to go to MissTeller. The hideous sentence in the newspaper had filled her with doubtand vague alarm. It was not possible that she, Anne, was meant; and yetBagshot, from whom this as yet unrevealed testimony was to come, saw heron the day she visited Helen, after the tidings of her husband's death.Surely this was too slight a foundation upon which to found her vaguealarm. She repeated to herself that her dread was unreasonable, yet itwould not down. If the danger had been open, she could have faced anddefied it; but this mute, unknown something, which was only to berevealed by the power and in the presence of the law, held her back,bound hand and foot, afraid almost to breathe. For her presence or wordsmight, in some way she could not foresee
or even comprehend, bringincreased danger upon the head of the accused man, already weighted downwith a crushing load of suspicion, which grew heavier every hour.

  Suspense supplies a calmness of its own. Anne went into the city asusual, gave her lessons, and went through all the forms of heraccustomed living, both at home and abroad. Yet all the time she wasaccompanied by a muffled shape, its ghostly eyes fixed upon her throughits dark veil, menacing but silent. It was dread.

  When the hour came, and she knew that the old words were being spokenover Helen: "In the midst of life we are in death: of whom may we seekfor succor but of Thee?" "Before the mountains were brought forth, orever the earth and the world were made, Thou art God from everlasting.""A thousand years in Thy sight are but as yesterday, seeing that is pastas a watch in the night." "And now, Lord, what is my hope? Truly my hopeis even in Thee"--she bowed her head and joined in the sentences mutely,present at least in spirit. The next day, while the rain fell sombrely,she went to the distant cemetery: no one would be there in the storm,and she wished to stand once more by Helen's side--poor Helen, beautifulHelen, taken from this life's errors forever, perhaps already, inanother world, understanding all, repentant for all, forgiving all.

  There was no one to whom Anne could speak upon the subject which wasburning like a constant fire within her heart. And when, a few dayslater, a letter came from Gregory Dexter, she opened it eagerly: therewould be, there must be, comfort here. She read the pages quickly, andher heart stood still. "If I thought that there was the least dangerthat the secret of this cowardly, cruel deed would not be found out,"wrote Dexter, "I should at once leave all this labor in which I amengaged, important as it is, and devote myself to the search for proofsto convict the murderer. Never in my life has my desire for swift,sharp justice been so deeply stirred."

  Anne laid down the letter with a trembling hand. If he "thought thatthere was the least danger"; then he thought there was none. But so farno one had been apprehended, or even suspected, save Ward Heathcotealone. Did he think, then, that Heathcote was guilty? _Could_ he thinkthis, knowing him as he did, having been in a certain sense hiscompanion and friend?

  Dexter had not liked Heathcote personally, but he was capable of justjudgment above his personal likings and dislikings, and Anne knew it.She knew that he had examined the testimony impartially. It must be,then, it must be, that there were grounds for his belief. She took herpen and wrote a burning letter--a letter of entreaty and passionateremonstrance. And then, the next morning, she burned it: she must notwrite or speak on the subject at all, not even to him.

  The slow days moved onward like the processions of a dream. But no onenoticed any change in the young teacher, who journeyed wearily throughthe long hours. Old Nora saw the piles of newspapers in her mistress'sroom, but as she could not read, they betrayed nothing. She would not,besides, have recognized Helen under the name of Heathcote; thebeautiful lady who had visited the half-house in the days ofJeanne-Armande was named Lorrington. The slow days moved on, but notwithout events. In this case the law had moved speedily. An indictmenthad been found, and the trial was to take place without delay in thecounty town of the district to which Timloesville belonged.

  Miss Teller had gone to this town; the newspapers said that she hadtaken a house, and would remain during the trial, or as long as CaptainHeathcote was confined there. Anne, reading these items, reading themany descriptions of Heathcote, the suggestions regarding the murder,the theories concerning the blunder (for it was conceded that there hadbeen a blunder), asked herself wonderingly if he had no friends left--nofriends on earth, save herself and Miss Teller? The whole world seemedto be against him. But she judged only from the newspapers. There wasanother side. This was a small, local, but in one way powerful,minority, which stood by the accused man immovably. This minority wascomposed almost entirely of women--women high in New York society,Helen's own companions and friends. They formed a determined band ofchampions, who, without condescending to use any arguments, but simplythrough their own personality, exerted a strong influence, limited, itis true, but despotic. If the case was tried beforehand by thenewspapers, it was also tried beforehand by sweet voices and scornfullips in many New York drawing-rooms. Society resolved itself into twoparties--those who did and those who did not believe in the guilt of theimprisoned man. Those who did believe were almost all men; those who didnot, almost all women; the exceptions being a few men who stood byHeathcote in spite of the evidence, and a few women who, having logicalminds, stood by the evidence in spite of themselves.

  When the trial began, not only was Miss Teller present, but Mrs. Varceand Isabel, Mrs. Bannert and her daughter-in-law, together with othersequally well known as friends of Helen's, and prominent members of NewYork's fashionable society.

  Multomah, the little county town, was excited; its one hotel wascrowded. The country people came in to attend the trial from milesaround; great lawyers were to be present, there was to be "mighty finespeaking." The gentleman had murdered his wife for the million dollarsshe constantly carried with her. The gentleman had murdered his wifebecause she had just discovered that he was already married before hemet her, and he was afraid she would reveal the secret. A local preacherimproved the occasion by a sermon decked profusely with Apollyons andAbaddons. It was not clearly known what he meant, or where he stood; butthe discourse was listened to by a densely packed crowd of farmingpeople, who came out wiping their foreheads, and sat down on convenienttombstones to talk it over, and eat their dinners, brought in baskets,trying the case again beforehand for the five-hundredth time, withtexts and Scripture phrases thrown in to give it a Sabbath flavor.

  The New York dailies had sent their reporters; every evening Anne readtheir telegraphic summaries of the day's events; every morning, theaccount of the same in detail. She was not skillful enough to extractthe real evidence from the mass of irrelevant testimony with which itwas surrounded, the questions and answers, the confusing pertinacity ofthe lawyers over some little point which seemed to her as far from thereal subject as a blade of grass is from the fixed stars. She turned,therefore, to the printed comments which day by day accompanied thereport of the proceedings, gathering from them the progress made, andtheir ideas of the probabilities which lay in the future. The progressseemed rapid; the probabilities were damning. No journal pretended thatthey were otherwise. Yet still the able pens of the calmer writerscounselled deliberation. "There have been cases with even closerevidence than this," they warningly wrote, "in which the accused, bysome unexpected and apparently trivial turn in the testimony, has beenproven clearly innocent. In this case, while the evidence is strong, itis difficult to imagine a motive. Mrs. Heathcote was much attached toher husband; she was, besides, a beautiful, accomplished, andfascinating woman. That a man should deliberately plan to murder such awife, merely in order to obtain possession of wealth which was alreadypractically his, is incredible; and until some more reasonable motive isdiscovered, many will refuse to believe even the evidence."

  Anne, reading this sentence, felt faint. So far the mysterious testimonyto which vague allusion had been made in the beginning had not beenbrought forward; the time had been occupied by the evidence concerningthe events at Timloesville, and the questioning and cross-questioning ofthe Timloesville witnesses. A "more reasonable motive." The veiled shapethat accompanied her seemed to assume more definite outline, and to growfrom Dread into Fear. And yet she could not tell of what she wasafraid.

  The days passed, and she wondered how it was that she could still eat,and sleep, and speak as usual, while her whole being was away in thatlittle Pennsylvania town. She did speak and teach as usual, but she didnot eat or sleep. Something besides food sustained her. Was it hope? Orfear? Oh, why did not all the world cry out that he was not, could notbe guilty! Were people all mad, and deaf, and blind? She lived on in asuspense which was like a continual endurance of suffocation, which yetnever quite attains the relief of death.

  Miss Teller's lawyers labored with skill and vigila
nce; all thattalent--nay, more, genius--could do, they did. Their theory was that themurder was committed by a third person, who entered Mrs. Heathcote'sroom by the same outside stairway which her husband had used, after hisdeparture; and they defied the prosecution to prove that they werewrong. In answer to this theory the prosecution presented certain facts,namely: that Heathcote was seen entering by the outside stairway, andthat no one else was seen; that the impressions found there were thoseof a left hand, and that Heathcote was at the time left-handed; that atowel, marked with the name of the hotel and stained with blood, wasfound on the river-bank at the end of a direct trail from the garden,and that the chamber-maid testified that, whereas she had placed fourtowels in the room a few hours before, there were in the morning but tworemaining, and that no others were missing from the whole number ownedby the hotel.

  At this stage of the proceedings, Anne, sitting in her own room as usualnow in the evening, with one newspaper in her hand and the othersscattered on the floor by her side, heard a knock on the door below,but, in her absorption, paid no attention to it. In a few moments,however, Nora came up to say that Mr. Dexter was in the parlor, andwished to see her.

  Here was an unexpected trial. She had sent a short, carefully guardedanswer to his long letter, and he had not written again. It had beencomparatively easy to guard written words. But could she command thosethat must be spoken? She bathed her face in cold water, and stoodwaiting until she felt that she had called up a calmer expression; shecharged herself to guard every look, every word, even the tones of hervoice. Then she went down.