Chapter 20

Her absence was at once discovered, and Miss Garth resorted to every possible means of tracing her to her destination. A reward of fifty pounds was offered, and her mode of procedure being suspected, handbills setting forth her appearance were posted in York. It was one of these bills that attracted the attention of a certain Captain Wragge.

Captain Wragge was the stepson of Mrs. Vanstone's mother, and had persisted in regarding himself as a member of her family, and, having known of the real relationship that existed between his half-sister and Mr. Andrew Vanstone, had obtained from the latter a small annual subsidy as the price of his silence. A confessed rogue, the captain imagined he saw in this handbill an opportunity of re-stocking his exhausted exchequer.

As he wandered on the walls of York, pondering how he should act, he met Magdalen herself, and at once greeted her as a relative. The girl would have avoided him, but on his pointing out that unless she placed herself under his protection she was bound to be discovered and taken back to her friends, she consented to accompany him to his lodgings. There he introduced her to his wife, a tall, gaunt woman with a large, good-natured, vacant face, who lived in a state of bemused terror of her husband, who bullied and dragooned her according to his mood.

After listening to the frank exposition of his character and his method of living, Magdalen decided to accept Captain Wragge's assistance. On certain terms, Wragge agreed to train her for the stage and secure her engagements, taking a half share of any money she might earn. In return for these profits, he agreed to carry out certain inquiries whenever she might think it necessary. As to the nature of these inquiries, she, for the time being, preserved silence.

Magdalen's talent for acting proved highly successful, and under the direction of the captain she began rapidly to make a reputation for herself, and at the end of six months she had saved between six and seven hundred pounds. She now decided that it was time to put her plan of retribution into execution.

At her instructions, Captain Wragge had discovered that Michael Vanstone was dead and that his son, Noel Vanstone, had succeeded to the property, and was now living with his father's old housekeeper, a certain Swiss lady, the widow of a professor of science, by name Mrs. Lecount, in Vauxhall Walk, Lambeth. The remaining information that Wragge obtained regarding the Vanstones was to the effect that the deceased Michael had a great friend in Admiral Bartram, whose nephew George was the son of Mr. Andrew Vanstone's sister, and therefore the cousin of Noel Vanstone. Having this information, Magdalen calmly informed Wragge that their alliance, for the moment, was at an end, and taking Mrs. Wragge with her, journeyed to London. There she obtained rooms directly opposite the house occupied by Noel Vanstone. Disguising herself as Miss Garth and assuming her old governess's voice and manner, she boldly visited the house. She found Noel Vanstone a weak, avaricious coward, who was already terrified by the letters she had written him demanding the restitution of her fortune. He was completely at the mercy of Mrs. Lecount.

Something about the supposed Miss Garth excited the suspicion of Mrs. Lecount, and she deliberately set about to try and make her visitor betray what she was convinced she was concealing.

"I would suggest," said Mrs. Lecount, "that you give a hundred pounds to each of these unfortunate sisters."

"He will repent the insult to the last hour of his life," said Magdalen.

The instant that answer passed her lips, she would have given worlds to recall it. Her passionate words had been uttered in her own voice. Mrs. Lecount detected the change, and, with a view to establishing some proof of the identity of her visitor, she secured, by a subterfuge, a thin strip of the old-fashioned skirt which Magdalen was wearing in the character of Miss Garth.

Foiled in her appeal to Noel Vanstone, Magdalen determined to put in train the plot she had long proposed to herself. She set out deliberately to win the property of which she and her sister had been despoiled, by winning the hand of Noel Vanstone. A letter from Frank Clare had released her from her engagement, and with a bitter heart she went down to Aldborough, in Suffolk, whither Noel Vanstone had removed for his health.

In the character of the niece of Mr. Bygrave, which role Captain Wragge adopted, she laid siege to the selfish affections of Noel Vanstone. Her task proved ridiculously easy. Noel fell hopelessly in love with her, and before many days were out proposed marriage. So far, everything had worked smoothly, but at this point Mrs. Lecount's fears were aroused. She determined to prevent the marriage at all costs, and used every possible means to dissuade her master from having anything more to do with the Bygraves, and the whole plot must have fallen to the ground had it not been for the persistence and skilful diplomacy displayed by Captain Wragge.

He arranged that Noel should visit Admiral Bartram, leaving Mrs. Lecount behind to pack up. From Admiral Bartram's he was to proceed to London, where he would be duly united to Magdalen. In order to secure the non-interference of Mrs. Lecount, the captain sent her a forged letter, summoning her at once to the death-bed of her brother at Zurich. But Mrs. Lecount was not so easily disposed of as Captain Wragge had imagined.

As soon as her master departed for Admiral Bartram's she took the opportunity, when both Magdalen and the captain were out, to visit their house. Readily persuading the simple-minded Mrs. Wragge, who had a passion for clothes, to show her Magdalen's wardrobe, she discovered there the skirt from which she had cut a piece on the occasion of the girl's visit in the character of Miss Garth.

She was detected by Captain Wragge leaving the house, but, careless of what the latter might think, she returned home in triumph. There she found the letter summoning her to Zurich. There was no time to be lost; she had to go. But before she set out she wrote a letter to Noel Vanstone, disclosing the whole facts of the conspiracy.

Captain Wragge, positive in his own mind that Mrs. Lecount had discovered everything, would have consulted Magdalen, but the girl was in a condition which prevented her from taking any active part in the affair. She wandered about Aldborough with a settled despair written clearly on the beautiful features of her face. Her woe-begone appearance attracted the attention of a certain Captain Kirke, and he carried away with him on his ship the indelible memory of her beauty.

Captain Wragge had to depend solely on his own exertions. Waiting till the housekeeper had left Aldborough, he discovered, by inquiries at the post-office, that Mrs. Lecount had written to Noel Vanstone. That letter must be stopped at all costs, and the captain acted boldly. The day was Saturday. Obtaining a special licence, he hurried off to Admiral Bartram's, before Mrs. Lecount's letter was delivered, and induced Noel Vanstone to accompany him to London. At the same time he left behind him several envelopes, addressed to "Captain Wragge," under cover of which Admiral Bartram was to forward all correspondence which might arrive after his departure. By this means, Mrs. Lecount's letter was prevented from coming into the hands of her master, and two days later Magdalen duly became the wife of Noel Vanstone.

Twelve weeks later, Noel Vanstone walked moodily about the garden of a cottage he had taken in the Highlands. That morning Magdalen, without even asking his permission, had set out for London to see her sister, and her husband, his health greatly enfeebled, was left alone, weak and miserable. He had a habit of mourning over himself, and as he rested, looking over a fence, he sighed bitterly.

"You were happier with me," said a voice at his side.

He turned with a scream to see Mrs. Lecount. She told him how his wife was Magdalen Vanstone, how she had married him simply from a desire to recover the fortune of which she had been robbed by Michael Vanstone, also suggesting that Magdalen intended to attempt his life.

Shivering with terror, Noel Vanstone became like wax in Mrs. Lecount's hands. He at once agreed to draw up a new will at her dictation, completely cutting off his wife. He bequeathed Mrs. Lecount £5,000, and declared that he wished to leave the remainder to his cousin, George Bartram. Such an arrangement, however, Mrs. Lecount foresaw, might be fraught with those very dangers which she wished to avoid. George Bartram was young and susceptible. It was conceivable that Magdalen, robbed of the stake for which she had so boldly played, might, on her husband's death, attempt to secure the prize by luring George Bartram into a marriage. At the instigation of his housekeeper, Noel Vanstone therefore bequeathed the residue of his estate absolutely to Admiral Bartram. But this will was coupled with a letter addressed to the admiral, secretly entrusting him to make the estate over to George under certain circumstances. He was to be married to, or to marry within six months, a woman who was not a widow. In the event of his not complying with these conditions, which would prevent his marriage with Magdalen, the money was to go to his married sister.

Having outwitted Magdalen, Mrs. Lecount's next object was to remove Noel Vanstone down to London. In order that he might be strong enough to travel, Mrs. Lecount prepared a favourite posset for him. Returning with the fragrant mixture, she noticed him sitting at a table, his head resting on his hand, apparently asleep.

"Your drink, Mr. Noel," she said, touching him. He took no notice. She looked at him closer Noel Vanstone was dead.

_III.--The Darkest Hour_

In pursuance of her determination to discover the secret trust, Magdalen secured a position as parlourmaid in Admiral Bartram's house. For days she waited for an opportunity of examining the admiral's papers. At night the admiral, who was addicted to sleep-walking, was guarded by a drunken old sea-dog, called Mazey, and in the daytime she could do nothing without being detected.

The secret trust lay heavily on the admiral's mind, and it became the more unbearable when George Bartram came down and announced his intention of marrying Norah Vanstone. George's married sister was dead, and thus one of the two objects contemplated by the secret trust had failed, and only a fortnight remained before the expiry of six months in which George Bartram had to marry in order to inherit the fortune. The admiral objected to the marriage with Norah Vanstone, but was at a loss how to dissuade George from the match.

While this problem was occupying the admiral's attention, Magdalen at last found the chance of examining her master's private apartments. Mazey, under the influence of drink, had deserted his post, and, with a basket of keys in her hands, Magdalen crept into the room where the admiral kept his papers. Drawer after drawer she opened, but nowhere could she find the secret trust.

Suddenly she heard a footstep, and turning round quickly, she saw coming towards her, in the moonlight, the figure of Admiral Bartram. Transfixed with terror, she watched him coming nearer and nearer. He did not seem to see her, and as he almost brushed past her she heard him exclaim: "Noel, I don't know where it's safe. I don't know where to put it. Take it back, Noel."

Magdalen, realising that the admiral was walking in his sleep, followed him closely. He went to a drawer in a cabinet and took out a folded letter, and putting it down before him on the table, repeated mechanically, "Take it back, Noel--take it back!"

Looking over his shoulder, Magdalen saw that the paper was the secret trust. She watched the admiral replace it in another cabinet, and then walk back silently to his bed. In another moment she had taken possession of the letter, when a hand was suddenly laid on her wrist, and the voice of old Mazey exclaimed, "Drop it, Jezebel--drop it!"

Dragging her away, old Mazey locked her in her room for the night; but early the following morning relented, and allowed her to leave the house.

Three weeks later Admiral Bartram died, and though Magdalen instructed her solicitors to set up the secret trust, and though the house was searched from top to bottom, the letter could not be found. In consequence, the property passed to George Bartram, who, two months later, married Norah Vanstone.

Magdalen gave up the struggle in despair, and not daring to return to her people, sunk lower and lower until she reached the depths of poverty. At last, in a wretched quarter in the East End, she came to the end of her resources. Ill and almost dying, the people from whom she rented her one miserable room determined to send her to the workhouse. A crowd collected to watch her departure. She was just about to be carried to a cab, when a man pushed his way through the crowd and saw her face.

That man was Captain Kirke, who had seen her at Aldborough. He at once gave instructions for her to be taken back into the house, paid a sum down for her proper treatment, and secured the services of a doctor and a nurse. Every day he came to inquire after her, and when at last, after weeks of suffering, her strength returned, it was he who brought Norah and Miss Garth to her.

After the long separation the two sisters had much to tell one another. Norah, who had bowed patiently under her misfortunes, had achieved the very object for which Magdalen had schemed in vain. She had obtained, through her marriage with George Bartram, the fortune which her father had intended for her. Among other things which she related to Magdalen was the account of how she had discovered the secret trust simply by chance. By the discovery of this document, Magdalen became entitled to half her late husband's fortune; for, the secret trust having failed, the law had distributed the estate between the deceased's next of kin--half to Magdalen and half to George Bartram. Taking the paper from her sister's hands, Magdalen tore it into pieces.

"This paper alone gives me the fortune which I obtained by marrying Noel Vanstone," she said. "I will owe nothing to my past life. I part with it as I part with these torn morsels of paper."

* * * * *

To Captain Kirke, Magdalen wrote the complete story of all she had done. She felt it was due to him that he should know all. She awaited the inevitable result--the inevitable separation from the man she had grown to love. When he had read it he came to her.

Near to tears, she waited to hear her fate.

"Tell me what you think of me! Tell me the truth!" she said.

"With my own lips?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered. "Say what you think of me with your own lips."

She looked up at him for the first time, and then, he stooped and kissed her.

* * * * *

The Woman in White

Wilkie Collins' greatest success was achieved on the appearance of "The Woman in White" in 1860, a story described by Thackeray as "thrilling." The book attracted immediate attention, Collins' method of unravelling an intricate plot by a succession of narratives being distinctly novel, and appealing immensely to the reading public.

_I.--The Woman Appears_

_The story here presented will be told by several pens. Let Walter Hartright, teacher of drawing, aged twenty-eight, be heard first_.

I had once saved Professor Pesca from drowning, and in his desire to do "a good something for Walter," the warm-hearted little Italian secured me the position of art-master at Limmeridge House, Cumberland.

It was the night before my departure to take up my duties as teacher to Miss Laura Fairlie and her half-sister, Miss Marian Halcombe, and general assistant to Frederick Fairlie, uncle and guardian to Miss Fairlie. Having bidden good-bye to my mother and sister at their cottage in Hampstead, I decided to walk home to my chambers the longest possible way round. In the after-warmth of the hot July day I made my way across the darkened Heath. Suddenly I was startled by a hand laid lightly on my shoulder. I turned to see the figure of a solitary woman, with a colourless youthful face, dressed from head to foot in white garments.

"Is that the road to London?" she said.

Her sudden appearance, her extraordinary dress, and the strained tones of her voice so surprised me that I hesitated some moments before replying. Her agitation at my silence was distressing, and calming her as well as I could, and promising to help her to get a cab, I asked her a few questions. Her answers showed that she was suffering from some terrible nervous excitement. She asked me if I knew any baronet--any from Hampshire--and seemed almost absurdly relieved when I assured her I did not. In the course of our conversation, as we walked towards St. John's Wood, I discovered a curious circumstance. She knew Limmeridge House and the Fairlies!

Having found her a cab, I bade her good-bye. As we parted she suddenly seized my hand and kissed it with overwhelming gratitude. Her conveyance was hardly out of sight when two men drove past in an open chaise, and drawing up in front of a policeman, asked him if he had seen a woman in white, promising a reward if he caught her.

"What has she done?" queried the policeman.

"Done!" exclaimed one of the men. "She has escaped from our asylum."

The day following this strange adventure I arrived at Limmeridge House, and the next morning made the acquaintance of the household. Marian Halcombe and Laura Fairlie, her half-sister, were, in point of appearance, the exact reverse of each other. The former was a tall, masculine-looking woman, with a masculine capacity for deep friendship. The latter was made in a slighter mould, with charming, delicate features, set off by a mass of pale-brown hair. Mr. Frederick Fairlie I found to be a neurotic, utterly selfish gentleman, who passed his life in his own apartments, amusing himself with bullying his valet, examining his works of art, and talking of his nerves.

With the other members of the household I soon became on a friendly footing. Miss Halcombe, when I told her of my strange adventure on Hampstead Heath, turned up her mother's correspondence with her second husband, and discovered there a reference to the woman in white, who bore a striking resemblance to Miss Fairlie. Her name was Anne Catherick. She had stayed for a short time in the neighbourhood with her mother, and had been befriended by Mrs. Fairlie.

As the months went by I fell passionately and hopelessly in love with Laura Fairlie. No word of love, however, passed between us, but Miss Halcombe, realising the situation, broke to me gently the fact that my love was hopeless. Almost from childhood Laura had been engaged to Sir Percival Clyde, a Hampshire baronet, and her marriage was due to take place shortly. I accepted the inevitable and decided to resign my position. But before I set out from Limmeridge House, many strange things happened.

Shortly before the arrival of Sir Percival Clyde to settle the details of his marriage, Laura had an anonymous letter, warning her against the union, and concluding with the words, "your mother's daughter has a tender place in my heart, for your mother was my first, my best, my only friend." Two days after the receipt of this letter I came upon Anne Catherick, busily tending the grave of Mrs. Fairlie. With difficulty I persuaded her to tell me something of her story. That she had been locked up in an asylum--unjustly, it was clear--I already knew. She confessed to having written the letter to Laura, but when I mentioned the name of Sir Percival Glyde, she shrieked aloud with terror. It was obvious that it was the baronet who had placed her under restraint.

The Fairlies' family solicitor, Mr. Gilmore, arriving next day, the whole matter was placed before him. He decided to send the anonymous letter to Sir Percival Glyde's solicitors and to ask for an explanation. Before any reply was received, I had left Limmeridge House, bidding farewell to the place where I had spent so many happy hours, and to the girl I loved.

_II.--The Story Continued by Vincent Gilmore, of Chancery Lane, Solicitor to the Fairlies_

I write these lines at the request of my friend, Mr. Walter Hartright, to describe the events which took place after his departure from Limmeridge House.

My letter to Sir Percival Glyde's solicitors regarding Anne Catherick's anonymous communication was answered by the baronet in person on his arrival at Limmeridge House. He was the first to offer an explanation. Anne Catherick was the daughter of one of his old family servants, and in consideration of her mother's past services he had sent her to a private asylum instead of allowing her to go to one of the public establishments where her mental condition would otherwise have compelled her to remain. Her animus against Sir Percival was due to the fact that she had discovered that he was the cause of her incarceration. The anonymous letter was evidence of this insane antipathy.

My next concern with this history deals with the drawing up of Miss Fairlie's marriage settlement. Besides being heiress to the Limmeridge property, Miss Fairlie had personal estate to the value of £20,000, derived under the will of her father, Philip Fairlie. To this she became entitled on completing her twenty-first year. She had a life interest, moreover, in £10,000, which on her death passed to her father's sister Eleanor, the wife of Count Fosco, an Italian nobleman. In all human probability the Countess Fosco would never enjoy this money, for she was well advanced in age, while Laura was not yet twenty-one.

Regarding the £20,000, the proper and fair course was that the whole amount should be settled so as to give the income to the lady for her life, afterwards to Sir Percival for his life, and the principal to the children of the marriage. In default of issue, the principal was to be disposed of as the lady might by her will direct, thus enabling her to make provision for her half-sister, Marian Halcombe. This was the fair and proper settlement, but Sir Percival's solicitors insisted that the principal should go to Sir Percival Glyde in the event of his surviving Lady Glyde and there being no issue. I protested in vain, and this iniquitous settlement, which placed every farthing of the £20,000 in Sir Percival's pocket, and prevented Miss Fairlie providing for Miss Halcombe, was duly signed.

_III.--The Story Continued by Marian Halcombe in a Series of Extracts from Her Diary_

_Limmeridge House, November 9_. I have secured for poor Walter Hartright a position as draughtsman on an expedition which is to start immediately for central South America. Change of scene may really be the salvation of him at this crisis in his life. To-day poor Laura asked Sir Percival to release her from the engagement.

"If you still persist in maintaining our engagement," she said, looking irresistibly beautiful, "I may be your true and faithful wife, Sir Percival--your loving wife, if I know my own heart, never!"

"I gratefully accept your grace and truth," he said. "The least that _you_ can offer is more to me than the utmost that I can hope for from any other woman in the world."

_December_ 19. I received Sir Percival's consent to live with him as companion to his wife in their new home in Hampshire. I was interested to discover that Count Fosco, the husband of Laura's Aunt Eleanor, is a great friend of Sir Percival's.

_December 22_, 11 _o'clock._ It is all over. They are married.