CHAPTER 1 OF THE DEAD ALIVE HARD OR RIGHT, SAID THE DOCTOR, LONGS OR RIGHT, NO ORGANIC DISEASE THAT I CAN DISCOVER. Don't alarm yourself.  The disease you are suffering from is overwork. The remedy in your case is rest. So the doctor spoke in my chambers in the temple, London, having been sent for to see me about half an hour after I had alarmed my clerk by fainting at my desk. I have no wish to intrude myself needlessly on the reader's attention, but it may be necessary to add, in the way of explanation, that I am a junior barrister in good practice. I come from the Channel Island of Jersey. The French spelling of my name, Le Franc, was anglicized generations since, in the days when the letter K was still used in England at the end of words which now terminate in C. We hold our heads high, nevertheless, as a Jersey family. It is to this day a trial to my father to hear his son described as a member of the English Bar. Rest, I repeated, when my medical advisor had done. My good friend, are you aware that it is term time? The courts are sitting. Look at the briefs waiting for me on the table. Rest means ruin in my case. And work, added the doctor quietly, means death. I started. He was not trying to frighten me. He was plainly in earnest. It is merely a question of time, he went on. You have a fine constitution. You are a young man.  Go away at once. If you are a good sailor, take a sea voyage. The ocean air is the best of all air to build you up again. No, I don't want to write a prescription. I decline to physique you. I have no more to say. With these words my medical friend left the room. I was obstinate. I went into court the same day. The senior counsel, in the case of which I was engaged, applied to me for some information, which it was my duty to give him. To my horror and amazement, I was perfectly unable to collect my ideas. Facts and dates all mingled together confusedly in my mind. I was let out of court, thoroughly terrified about myself. The next day my briefs went back to the attorneys, and I followed my doctor's advice by taking my passage for America in the first steamer that sailed for New York. I had chosen the voyage to America in preference to any other trip by sea with a special object in view. A relative of my mother's had emigrated to the United States many years since and had thriven there as a farmer. He had given me a general invitation to visit him if I ever crossed the Atlantic. The long period of inaction, under the name of rest, to which the doctor's decision had condemned me, could hardly be more pleasantly occupied, as I thought, than by paying a visit to my relation and seeing what I could of America in that way. After a brief surgeon at New York, I started by railway for the residence of my host, Mr. Isaac Medocraft, of Moorwick Farm. There are some of the grandest natural prospects on the face of creation in America. There is also to be found in certain states of the Union, thy way of wholesome contrast, scenery as flat, as monotonous, and as uninteresting to the traveller, as any that the earth can show. The part of the country in which Mr. Medocraft's farm was situated fell within his ladder category. I looked round me when I stepped out of the railway carriage on the platform at Moorwick Station, and I said to myself, if to be cured means, in my case, to be dull, I have accurately picked out the very place for the purpose. I look back at those words by the light of later events, and I pronounce them, as you will soon pronounce them, to be the words of an essentially rash man whose hasty judgement never stopped to consider what surprises time and chance together might have in store for him. Mr. Medocraft's eldest son, Ambrose, was waiting at the station to drive me to the farm. There was no forewarning in the appearance of Ambrose Medocraft of the strange and terrible events that were to follow my arrival at Moorwick. A healthy, handsome young fellow, one of thousands of other healthy, handsome young fellows, how do you do, Mr. Frank? Glad to see you, sir. Jump into the buggy, the men will look after your portmanteau. With equally conventional politeness, I answered, Thank you, how are you all at home? So we started on the way to the farm. Our conversation on the drive began with the subjects of agriculture and breeding. I displayed my tall ignorance of crops and cattle before we had travelled ten yards on our journey. Ambrose Medocraft cast about for another topic and failed to find it. Upon this I cast about on my side and asked, at a venture, if I had chosen a convenient time for my visit. The young farmer's stolid brown face instantly brightened. I had evidently hit, haphazard, on an interesting subject. You couldn't have chosen a better time, he said. Our house has never been so cheerful as it is now. Have you any visitors staying with you? It's not exactly a visitor, it's a new member of the family who has come to live with us. A new member of the family, may I ask who it is? Ambrose Medocraft considered before he replied, touched his horse with the whip, looked at me with a certain sheepish hesitation and suddenly burst out with the truth, in the plainest possible words. It's just the nicest girl, sir, you ever saw in your life. Aye-aye, a friend of your sisters, I suppose. A friend, bless your heart. It's our little American cousin, Naomi Colbrook. I vaguely remembered that a younger sister of Mr. Medocraft had married an American merchant in the remote past and had died many years since, leaving an only child. I was now further informed that the father also was dead. In his last moments he had committed his helpless daughter to the compassionate care of his wife's relations at Moorwick. He was always a speculating man, Ambrose went on, tried one thing after another and failed in all, died, sir, leaving barely enough to bury him. My father was a little doubtful, before she came here, how his American niece would turn out. We are English, you know, and, though we do live in the United States, we stick fast to our English ways and habits. We don't much like American women in general, I can tell you. But when Naomi made her appearance, she conquered us all. Such a girl took her place as one of the family directly, learned to make herself useful in the dairy in a week's time. I tell you this, she hasn't been with us quite two months yet, and we wonder already how we ever got on without her. Once started on the subject of Naomi Colbrook, Ambrose held to that one topic and talked on it without intermission. It required no great gift of penetration to discover the impression which the American cousin had produced in this case. The young fellow's enthusiasm communicated itself, in a certain tepid degree, to me. I really felt a mild flutter of anticipation at the prospect of seeing Naomi when we drew up toward the close of evening at the gates of Moorwick Farm. End of Chapter 1. Chapter 2 of The Dead Alive This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Ballard Johansson. The Dead of Live by Wilkie Collins. Chapter 2 The New Faces Immediately on my arrival I was presented to Mr. Metacroff, the father. This man had become a confirmed invalid confined by chronic rheumatism to his chair. He received me kindly and a little wearily as well. His only unmarried daughter, he had long since been a widower, was in the room in attendance on her father. She was a melancholy middle-aged woman without visible attractions of any sort. One of those persons who appeared to accept the obligation of living under protest as a burden which they would never have consented to bear if they had only been consulted first. Chapter 3 had a dreary little interview in a parlor of bare walls, and then I was permitted to go upstairs and unpack my portmanteau in my own room. Supper will be at nine o'clock, sir, said Miss Metacroff. She pronounced those words as if Supper was a form of domestic offense habitually committed by the men and endured by the women. I followed the groom up to my room, not over well pleased with my first experience of the farm. No Naomi and no romance thus far. My room was clean, oppressively clean. It was quite long to see a little dust somewhere. My library was limited to the Bible and the prayer book. My view from the window showed me a dead flat in a partial state of cultivation, fading sadly from view in the waning light. Above the head of my spruce white bed hung a scroll, bearing a damnatory quotation from Scripture in emblazoned letters of red and black. The dismal presence of Miss Metacroff had passed over my bedroom and had blighted it. My spirits sank as I looked round me. Supper time was still an event in the future. I blighted the candles and took from my portmanteau what I firmly believed to have been the first French novel ever produced at Moorwick Farm. It was one of the masterly and charming stories of Dumas, the Elder. In five minutes I was in a new world and my melancholy room was full of the liveliest French company. The sound of an imperative and uncompromising bell recalled me in due time to the regions of reality. I looked at my watch, nine o'clock. Ambrose met me at the bottom of the stairs and showed me the way to the supper room. After Metacroff's invalid chair had been wielded ahead of the table, on his right-hand side sat his sad and silent daughter. She signed to me with a ghostly solemnity to take the vacant place on the left of her father. Silas Metacroff came in at the same moment and was presented to me by his brother. There was a strong family likeness between them. Ambrose, being the taller and the handsomer man of the two. But there was no marked character in either face. I set them down as men with undeveloped qualities, the good and evil qualities alike, for time and circumstances to bring them to their full growth. The door opened again while I was still studying the two brothers. Without, I honestly confess, being very favorably impressed by either of them. A new member of the family circle, who instantly attracted my attention, entered the room. He was short, spare, and wiry, singularly pale for a person whose life was passed in the country. The face was in other respects besides this, a striking face to see. As to the lower part, with a thick black beard and mustache, at a time when shaving was the rule, and beards the rare exception in America. As to the upper part of the face, it was irradiated by a pair of wild, glittering brown eyes, the expression of which suggested to me that there was something not quite right with the man's mental balance. A perfectly sane person in all his sayings and doings, so far as I could see, there was still something in those wild brown eyes which suggested to me that under exceptionally trying circumstances, he might surprise his oldest friends by taking in some exceptionally violent or foolish way. A little cracked. That, in the popular phrase, was my impression of the stranger who now made his appearance in the supper room. Mr. Metacroft the Elder, having not spoken one word thus far, himself introduced the newcomer to me with a side glance at his sons which had something like defiance in it. A glance which, as I was sorry to notice, was returned with the defiance on their side by the two young men. Philip LeFranc, this is my overlooker, Mr. Yago, said the old man, formerly presenting us. Mr. Yago, this is my young relative by marriage, Mr. LeFranc. He is not well. He has come over the ocean for rest and change of scene. Mr. Yago is an American. Philip, I hope you have no prejudice against Americans. Make acquaintance with Mr. Yago. Sit together. He cast another dark look at his sons and the sons again returned it. They pointedly drew back from John Yago as he approached the empty chair next to me and moved round to the opposite side of the table. It was plain that the man with the beard stood high in the father's favor, and that he was cordially disliked for that or some other reason by the sons. The door opened once more. A young lady quietly joined the party at the supper table. Was the young lady Naomi Colbrook? I looked at Ambrose and saw the answer in his face. Naomi Colbrook at last. A pretty girl, and so far as I could judge by appearances, a good girl too. Describing her generally, I may say that she had a small head, well-carried, and well-set on her shoulders. Bright gray eyes that looked at you honestly and meant what they looked. A trim, slight little figure. Too slight for our English notions of beauty. A strong American accent. And a rare thing in America. A pleasantly tone voice, which made the accent agreeable to English ears. Our first impressions of people are, in nine cases out of ten, the right impressions. I like Naomi Colbrook at first sight. Liked her pleasant smile. Liked her hearty shake of the hand when we were presented to each other. If I get on well with nobody else in this house, I thought to myself, I shall certainly get on well with you. For once in a way, I proved a true prophet. In the atmosphere of smoldering enmities at Moorwick Farm, the pretty American girl and I remained firm and true friends from first to last. Ambrose made room for Naomi to sit between his brother and himself. She changed color for a moment and looked at him with a pretty reluctant tenderness as she took her chair. I strongly suspected the young farmer of squeezing her hand privately under the cover of the tablecloth. The supper was not a merry one. The only cheerful conversation was the conversation across the table between Naomi and me. For some incomprehensible reason, John Yago seemed to be ill at ease in the presence of his young countrywoman. He looked up at Naomi doubtingly from his plate and looked down again slowly with a frown. When I addressed him, he answered constrainedly. Even when he spoke to Mr. Metacroft, he was still on his guard. On his guard against the two young men, as I fancied by the direction which his eyes took on these occasions. When we began our meal, I had noticed for the first time that my hand was strapped up with surgical plaster. And I now further observed that John Yago's wandering brown eyes, furtively looking at everybody around the table in turn, looked with a curious cynical scrutiny at the young man's injured hand. By way of making my first evening at the farm all the more embarrassing to me as a stranger, I discovered before long that the father and sons were talking indirectly at each other through Mr. Yago and through me. When old Mr. Metacroft spoke disparagingly to his overlooker and some past mistake made in the cultivation of the arable land of the farm, old Mr. Metacroft's eyes pointed the application of his hostile criticism straight in the direction of his two sons. When the two sons seized a stray remark of mine about animals in general and applied it satirically to the mismanagement of sheep and oxen in particular, they looked at John Yago while they talked to me. On occasions of this sort, and they happened frequently, Naomi struck in resolutely on the right moment to talk to some harmless topic. Every time she took a prominent part in this way in keeping the peace, Melancholy Ms. Metacroft slowly rounded her in stern and silent disparagement of her interference. A more dreary and more disunited family party I never sat at the table with, envy, hatred, malice, and untreatableness are never so essentially detestable to my mind as when they are animated by the sense of propriety and work under the surface. But for my interest in Naomi and my interest in the little love looks which I now and then surprised passing between her and Ambrose, I should never have sat through that supper. I should certainly have taken refuge in my French novel and my own room. At last, the unendurably long meal served with ostentious profusion was at an end. Ms. Metacroft rose to her ghostly solemnity and granted me my dismissal in these words. We are early people at the farm, Mr. LeFranc. I wish you good night. Let him shorten his farewell salutation to me and wheel him out to his bed as if she were wheeling him out to his grave. Do you go to your room immediately, sir? If not, may I offer you a cigar provided the young gentleman will permit it? So picking his words with painful deliberation and pointing his reference to the young gentleman with one sardonic side look at them, Mr. John Yago performed the duties of hospitality on his side. I excused myself from accepting the cigar. With studied politeness, the man of the glittering brown eyes rested at night's rest and left the room. Ambrose and Silas both approached me hospitably with their open cigar cases in their hands. You were quite right to say no, Ambrose began. Never smoke with John Yago. His cigars will poison you. And never believe a word John Yago says to you, added Silas. He is the greatest liar in America. Let the other be whom he may. Naomi shook her forefinger reproachfully at them as if the two sturdy young farmers had been two children. What will Mr. LeFranc think, she said?  Go and smoke. I am ashamed of both of you. Silas slunk away without a word of protest. Ambrose stood his ground, evidently bent on making his peace with Naomi before he left her. Seeing that I was in the way, I walked aside toward a glass door at the lower end of the room. The door opened on the trim little farm garden bathed at that moment in lovely moonlight. I stepped out to enjoy the scene and found my way to a seat under an elm tree. The grand repose of nature had never looked so unutterably solemn and beautiful as it now appeared. After what I had seen and heard inside the house, I understood, or thought I understood, the sad despair of humanity which led men into monasteries in the old times. The misanthropical side of my nature, whereas the sick man who is not conscious of that side of him, was fast getting the upper hand of me when I felt a light touch laid on my shoulder, found myself reconciled to my species once more by Naomi Colbrook. I want to speak with you, Naomi began. You don't think ill of me for following you out here? We are not accustomed to stand much on ceremony in America. You are quite right in America. Praise it down. She seated herself by my side looking at me frankly and fearlessly in the light of the moon. You are related to the family here, she resumed, and I am related too. Perhaps I may say to you what I couldn't say to a stranger. I am right glad you have come here, Mr. the Frank, and for a reason, sir, which you don't suspect. Thank you for the compliment you pay me, Ms. Colbrook, whatever the reason may be. She took no notice of my reply. She steadily pursued her own train of thought. I guess you may do some good, sir, in this wretched house, the girl went on, with her eyes still earnestly in her face. There is no love, no trust, no peace at Morwick Farm. They want somebody here except Ambrose. Don't think ill of Ambrose, he is only thoughtless. I say the rest of them want somebody here to make them ashamed of their hard hearts and their horrid false envious ways.  They can't help themselves, they must look up to you. Try, Mr. LeFranc, when you have the opportunity. Pray, try, sir, to make peace among them. You heard what went on at supper time, and you were disgusted with it. Oh, yes, you were. I saw you frown to yourself, and I know what that means in you Englishmen. There was no choice but to speak one's mind plainly to Naomi. I acknowledged the impression which had been produced on me at supper time just as plainly as I have acknowledged it. Naomi nodded her head in undisguised approval of my kinder. That will do, that's speaking out, she said. But, oh, my, you put it a deal too mildly, sir, when you say the men don't seem to be on friendly terms together here.  That's the word, Mr. LeFranc. Hate. Bitter, bitter hate. She clenched her little fists. She shook them vehemently by way of adding emphasis to her last words. And then she suddenly remembered Ambrose. Except Ambrose, she added, opening her hand again and laying it very earnestly on my arm. Don't go and misjudge Ambrose, sir. There is no harm in poor Ambrose. The girl's innocent frankness was really irresistible. Should I be altogether wrong, I asked, if I guessed that you were a little partial to Ambrose? An Englishwoman would have felt, or at least have assumed, some little hesitation at replying to my question. Naomi did not hesitate for an instant. You were quite right, sir, she said with the most perfect composure. If things go well, I mean to marry Ambrose. If things go well, I repeated, what does that mean, money? She shook her head. It means a fear that I have in my own mind, she answered. A fear, Mr. LeFranc, of matters taking a bad turn among the men here. The wicked, hard-hearted, unfeeling men. I don't mean Ambrose, sir. I mean his brother Silas and John Yago. Did you notice Silas' hand? John Yago did that, sir, with a knife. By accident, I asked. On purpose, she answered, in return for a blow. This plain revelation of the state of things at Morwick Farm rather staggered me. Blows and knives under the rich and respectable roof tree of old Mr. Metacroft? Blows and knives not among the masters. My first impression was like your first impression, no doubt. I could hardly believe it. Are you sure of what you say? I inquired. I have it from Ambrose. Ambrose would never deceive me. Ambrose knows all about it. My curiosity was powerfully excited. To what sort of household had I rashly voyaged across the ocean in search of rest and quiet? May I know all about it, too? I asked. Well, I will try and tell you what Ambrose told me. But you must promise me one thing first, sir. Promise you won't go away and leave us when you know the whole truth. Shake hands on it, Mr. The Frank. Come, shake hands on it. There was no resisting her fearless frankness. I shook hands on it. Naomi entered on her narrative the moment I had given her my pledge without wasting a word by way of preface. When you were shown over the farm near, she began, you will see that it is really two farms in one. On this side of it, as we look from under this tree, they raise crops. On the other side, on much the larger half of the land mind, they raise cattle. When Mr. Metacroft got too old and too sick to look after his farm himself, the boys, I mean Ambrose and Silas, divided the work between them. Ambrose looked after the crops and Silas after the cattle. Ambrose didn't go well somehow under their management. I can't tell you why. I'm only sure Ambrose was not in fault. The old man got more and more dissatisfied, especially about his beasts. His pride is in his beasts. Without saying a word to the boys, he looked about privately. I think he was wrong in that, sir, don't you? He looked about privately for help and in an evil hour he looked at John Yago. Do you like John Yago, Mr. LeFranc? So far, no. I don't like him. Just my sentiments, sir. But I don't know. It's likely we may be wrong. There's nothing against John Yago, except that he is so odd in his ways.   On account of a vow he made when he lost his wife. Don't you think, Mr. LeFranc, a man must be a little mad when he shows his grief at losing his wife by vowing that he will never shave himself again? Well, that's what they do say John Yago vowed. Perhaps it's a lie. People are such liars here. Anyway, it's truth. The boys themselves confess that. When John came to the farm, he came with a first-rate character. The old father here isn't easy to please and he pleased the old father. Yes, that's so. Mr. Metacroft don't like my countrymen in general. He's like his sons, English, bitter English, to the marrow of his bones. Somehow, in spite of that, John Yago got round him. Maybe because John does certainly know his business. Oh yes, cattle and crops, John knows his business. Since he's been overlooker, things have prospered as they didn't prosper in the time of the boys. Ambrose owned as much to me himself. Still, sir, it's hard to be set aside for a stranger, isn't it? John gives the orders now. The boys do their work, but they have no voice in it when John and the old man put their heads together over the business of the farm. I've been long in telling you of it, sir, but now you know how the envy and the hatred grew among the men before my time. And yet, worse and worse, there's hardly a day goes by that hard words don't pass between the boys and John or the boys and their father. The old man has an aggravating way, Mr. the Frank. A nasty way, as we do call it, of taking John Yago's part. Do speak to him about it when you get the chance. The main blame of the quarrel between Silas and John the other day lies at his door, I think. It was brutal of him, though he is Ambrose brother, to strike John who is the smaller and weaker man of the two. But it was worse than brutal in John, sir, to out with his knife and try to stab Silas. Oh, he did it! If Silas had not caught the knife in his hand, his hands awfully cut, I can tell you, I dressed it myself. It might have ended, for anything I know, in murder. She stopped as the word passed her lips, looked back over her shoulder and started violently. I looked where my companion was looking. The dark figure of a man was standing, watching us in the shadow of the elm tree. I rose directly to approach him. Naomi recovered her self-possession and checked me before I could interfere. Who are you? She asked, turning sharply toward the stranger, What do you want there? The man stepped out from the shadow into the moonlight and stood revealed to us as John Yago. I hope I'm not intruding, he said, looking hard at me. What do you want? Naomi repeated. I don't wish to disturb you or to disturb this gentleman. He proceeded, when you were quite at leisure, Miss Naomi, you would be doing me a favour if you would permit me to say a few words to you in private. He spoke with the most scrupulous politeness, trying and trying vainly to conceal some strong agitation which was in possession of him. His wild brown eyes, wilder than ever in the moonlight, rested entreatingly with a strange underlying expression of despair on Naomi's face.  Little as I liked the man, he did really impress me as a pitiable object at that moment. Do you mean that you want to speak to me tonight? Naomi asked in undisguised surprise. Yes, Miss, if you please, at your leisure and at Mr. LeFranc's. Naomi hesitated. Won't it keep till tomorrow? she said. I shall be away on farm business tomorrow, Miss, for the whole day. Pleased to give me a few minutes this evening. He advanced a step toward her, his voice faltered and dropped timidly to a whisper. Miss Naomi, it would be a kindness on your part, a very, very great kindness if you will let me say it before I rest tonight. I rose again to resign my place to him. Once more Naomi checked me. No, she said. Don't stir. She addressed John Yago very reluctantly. If you are so much in earnest about it, Mr. John, I suppose it must be. I can't guess what you can possibly say to me which cannot be said before a third person. However, it wouldn't be civil, I suppose, to say no in my place. You know it's my business to wind up the hall-clock at ten every night. If you choose to come and help me, the chances are we shall have the hall to ourselves. Will that do? Not in the hall, Miss, if you will excuse me. Not in the hall. And not in the house, either, if I may make so bold. What do you mean? She turned impatiently and appealed to me. Do you understand him? John Yago signed to me imploringly to let him answer for himself. Bear with me, Miss Naomi, he said. I think I can make you understand me. There are eyes on the watch and ears on the watch in the house. And there are some footsteps I won't say who's so soft that no person can hear them. The last illusion evidently made itself understood. Naomi stopped him before he could say more. Well, where is it to be? She asked, resignedly. Will the garden do, Mr. John? Thank you kindly, Miss. The garden will do. He pointed to a gravel walk behind us, bathed in the full flood of the moonlight. There, he said, where we can see all around us and be sure that nobody is listening, at ten o'clock. He paused and addressed himself to me. I beg to apologise, sir, for intruding myself on your conversation. Pleased to excuse me.  He bowed to us and melted away into the shadow of the tree. The distant sound of a door closed softly came to us through the stillness of the night. John Yago had re-entered the house. Now that he was out of hearing, Naomi spoke to me very earnestly. Don't suppose, sir, I have any secrets with him, she said. I know no more than you do what he wants with me. I have half a mind not to keep the appointment when ten o'clock comes. What would you do in my place? Having made the appointment, I answered, it seems to be due to yourself to keep it. If you feel the slightest alarm, I will wait in another part of the garden so that I can hear if you call me.  You are a stranger, Mr. LeFranc, or you would never talk to me in that way. In America we don't do the men the honor of letting them alarm us. In America the women take care of themselves. He has got my promise to meet him, as you say, and I must keep my promise. Only think, she added, speaking more to herself than to me. Of John Yago finding out Miss Metacroff's nasty sly, underhand ways in the house, most men would never have noticed her. I was completely taken by surprise. Sad and severe Miss Metacroff'd a listener and a spy? What next at Moorwick Farm? Was that hint at the watchful eyes and ears and the soft footsteps really an allusion to Mr. Metacroff's daughter? I asked. Of course it was.  The false wretch. She is secretly at the bottom of half the bad feeling among the men. I am certain of it. She keeps Mr. Metacroff's mind bitter toward the boys. Old as she is, Mr. LeFranc, and ugly as she is, she wouldn't object if she could only make him ask her to be John Yago's second wife. No, sir. And she wouldn't break her heart if the boys had their stone on the farm when the father dies. I have watched her and I know it. Ah, I could tell you such things. But there's no time now. It's close on ten o'clock. We must say good night. I'm right glad I have spoken to you, sir. I say again at parting what I have said already. Use your influence. Pray use your influence to soften them and to make them ashamed of themselves in this wicked house. Or talk about what you can do tomorrow when you were shown over the farm. Say good-bye for now. Hark! There is ten striking. And look! There is John Yago stealing out again in the shadow of the tree. Good night, friend LeFranc, and pleasant dreams. With one hand she took mine and pressed it cordially. With the other she pushed me away without ceremony in the direction of the house. A charming girl. An irresistible girl. I was nearly as bad as the boys. I declare I almost hated John Yago too as we crossed each other in the shadow of the tree. Arrived at the glass door I stopped and looked back at the gravel walk. They had met. I saw the two shadowy figures slowly pacing backward and forward in the moonlight. The woman a little in advance of the man. What was he saying to her? Why was he so anxious that not a word of it should be heard? Our pre-sentiments are sometimes, in certain rare cases, the faithful prophecy of the future. A vague distrust of that moonlight meeting stealthily took a hold on my mind. Will mischief come of it? I asked myself as I closed the door and entered the house. Mischief did come of it. You shall hear now. End of Chapter 3 of The Dead Alive by Wilkie Collins Read by Dennis Smith Chapter 4 of The Dead Alive by Wilkie Collins This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please go to LibriVox.org Read by Dennis Smith The Dead Alive by Wilkie Collins Chapter 4 The Beechin Stick Persons of sensitive, nervous temperament, sleeping for the first time in a strange house and in a bed that is new to them must make up their minds to pass a wakeful night. My first night at Morwick Farm was no exception to this rule. The little sleep I had was broken and disturbed by dreams. Toward six o'clock in the morning my bed became unendurable to me. The sun was shining in brightly at the window. I determined to try the reviving influence of a stroll in the fresh morning air. Just as I got out of bed I heard footsteps and voices under my window. The footsteps stopped and the voices became recognizable. I had passed the night with my window open. I was able without exciting notice from below to look out. The persons beneath me were Silas Meadowcroft, John Yago and three strangers whose dress and appearance indicated plainly enough that they were laborers on the farm. Silas was swinging a stout beach and stick in his hand and was speaking to Yago coarsely and insolently enough of his moonlight meeting with Naomi on the previous night. Next time you go courting a young lady in secret, said Silas, make sure that the moon goes down first or wait for a cloudy sky. You were seen in the garden, Master Yago, and you may as well tell us the truth for once in a way. Did you find her open to persuasion, sir? Did she say yes? John Yago kept his temper. If you must have your joke, Mr. Silas, he said quietly and firmly, be pleased to joke on some other subject. You are quite wrong, sir, and what you supposed to have passed between the young lady and me. Silas turned about and addressed himself ironically to the three laborers. You hear him, boys? He can't tell the truth, try him as you may. He wasn't making love to Naomi in the garden last night. Oh, dear no! He has had one wife already and he knows better than to take the yoke on his shoulders for the second time. Greatly to my surprise John Yago met this clumsy jesting with a formal and serious reply. You are quite right, sir, he said. I have no intention of marrying for the second time. What I was saying to Miss Naomi doesn't matter to you. It was not at all what you choose to suppose. It was something of quite another kind with which you have no concern. Be pleased to understand once and for all, Mr. Silas, that not so much as the thought of making love to the young lady has ever entered my mind. I respect her, I admire her good qualities, but if she was the only woman left in the world and if I was a much younger man than I am I should never think of asking her to be my wife. He burst out suddenly into a harsh, uneasy laugh. No, no, not my style, Mr. Silas, not my style. Something in those words or in his manner of speaking them appeared to exasperate Silas. He dropped his clumsy irony and addressed himself directly to John Yago in a tone of savage contempt. Not your style, he repeated, upon my soul that's a cool way of putting it for a man in your place. What do you mean by calling her not your style? You impudent beggar. Naomi Colbrook is meat for your master. John Yago's temper began to give way at last. He approached defiantly a step or two nearer to Silas Meadowcroft. Who is my master? He asked. Ambrose will show you if you go to him. Answered the other. Naomi is his sweetheart, not mine. Put his way if you want to keep a whole skin on your bones. John Yago cast one of his sardonic side-looks at the farmer's wounded left hand.  I have set my mark on you once, sir. Let me buy on my business or I may mark you for a second time. Silas lifted his beach and stick. The laborers roused to some rude sense of the serious turn which the quarrel was taking, got between the two men, I had been hurriedly dressing myself while the altercation was proceeding and I now ran downstairs to try what my influence could do toward keeping the peace at Morwick Farm. The war of angry words was still going on when I joined the men outside.  Be off with you to the town and take care you don't meet Ambrose on the way. Take care you don't feel my knife again before I go," cried the other man. Silas made a desperate effort to break away from the laborers who were holding him. Last time you only felt my fist, he shouted. Next time you shall feel this. He lifted the stick as he spoke. I stepped up and snatched it out of his hand. Mr. Silas, I said, I am an invalid and I'm going out for a walk. Your stick will be useful to me. I beg leave to borrow it. The laborers burst out laughing. Silas fixed his eyes on me with a stare of angry surprise. John Yago, immediately recovering his self-possession, took off his hat and made me a deferential bow. I had no idea, Mr. LeFranc, that we were disturbing you, he said. I am very much ashamed of myself, sir. I beg to apologize. I accept your apology, Mr. Yago. I answered, on the understanding that you, as the older man, will set the example of forbearance if your temper is tried on any future occasion, as it has been tried today. And I have further to request, I added, addressing myself to Silas, that you will do me a favor as your father's guest. The next time your good spirits lead you into making jokes at Mr. Yago's expense, don't carry them quite so far. I'm sure you meant no harm, Mr. Silas. Will you gratify me by saying so yourself? I want to see you in Mr. Yago shake hands. John Yago instantly held out his hand with an assumption of good feeling which was a little overacted to my thinking. Silas Meadowcroft made no advance of the same friendly sort on his side. Let him go about his business, said Silas. I won't waste any more words on him, Mr. LeFranc, to please you, but saving your presence I'm damned if I take his hand. Further persuasion was plainly useless, addressed to such a man as this. Silas gave me no further opportunity of remonstrating with him, even if I had been inclined to do so. He turned about in sulky silence and retracing his steps along the path disappeared around the corner of the house. He turned about in sulky silence and retracing his steps along the path disappeared around the corner of the house. The laborers withdrew next in different directions to begin the day's work. John Yago and I were alone. I left it to the man of the wild brown eyes to speak first. In half an hour's time, sir, he said, I shall be going on business to Narrabee, our market town here. Can I take any letters to the post for you? Or is there anything else that I can do in the town? I thanked him and declined both proposals. He made me another deferential bow and withdrew into the house. I mechanically followed the path in the direction that Silas had taken before me. Turning the corner of the house and walking on for a little way, I followed the path to the house and walking on for a little way, I found myself at the entrance to the stables and face to face with Silas Metacroft once more. He had his elbows on the gate of the yard, swinging it slowly backward and forward and turning and twisting a straw between his teeth. When he saw me approaching him he advanced a step from the gate and made an effort to excuse himself with a very ill grace. No offence, mister, ask me what you will besides and I'll do it for you. But don't ask me to shake hands with John Yago. I hate him too badly for that.  That's your feeling toward the man, Mr. Silas, is it? That's my feeling, Mr. LeFranc, and I'm not ashamed of it either. Is there any such place as a church in your neighborhood, Mr. Silas? Of course there is. And do you ever go to it? Of course I do. Do you miss your travels, Mr. Silas? Every Sunday, sir, without fail. Some third person behind me burst out laughing. Some third person had been listening to our talk. I turned round and discovered Ambrose Meadowcroft. I understand the drift of your catechism, sir, though my brother doesn't, he said. Don't be hard on Silas, sir. He isn't the only Christian who leaves his Christianity in the pew when he goes out of church. You will never make us friends with John Yago, try as you may. Why, what have you got there, Mr. LeFranc? May I die if it isn't my stick? I've been looking for it everywhere. The thick beech and stick had been feeling uncomfortably heavy in my invalid hand for some time past. There was no sort of need for my keeping it any longer, and Silas Meadowcroft's savage temper was subdued to a selky repose. I handed the stick back to Ambrose. He laughed as he took it from me. You can't think how strange it feels, Mr. LeFranc, to be out without one stick, he said. A man gets used to his stick, sir, doesn't he? Are you ready for your breakfast? Not just yet. I thought of taking a little walk first. All right, sir. I wish I could go with you, but I have got my work to do this morning, and Silas has his work too.  If you want to go further, the end will lead you into the lane. Through sheer thoughtlessness I did a very foolish thing. I turned back as I was told and left the brothers together at the gate of the stable-yard. Chapter 4 of The Dead Alive by Wilkie Collins Read by Dennis Smith Arrived at the garden, a thought struck me. The cheerful speech and easy manner of Ambrose plainly indicated that he was ignorant thus far of the quarrel which had taken place under my window. Silas might confess to having taken his brother's stick and might mention whose head he had threatened with it. It was not only useless but undesirable that Ambrose should know of the quarrel. I retraced my steps to the stable-yard. Nobody was at the gate. I called alternately to Silas and Ambrose. Nobody answered. The brothers had gone away to their work. Returning to the garden I heard a pleasant voice wishing me good morning. I looked round. Naomi Coldbrook was standing at one end of the lower windows of the farm. She had a working apron on and she was industriously brightening the knives for the breakfast-table on an old-fashioned board. A sleek black cat balanced himself on her shoulder, watching the flashing motion of the knife as she passed it rapidly to and fro on the leather-covered surface of the board. Come here, she said. I want to speak to you. I noticed as I approached that her pretty face was clouded and anxious. She pushed the cat irritably off her shoulder. She welcomed me with only the faint reflection of a bright customary smile. I have seen John Yago, she said. He has been hinting at something which he says happened under your bedroom window this morning. When I begged him to explain himself, he only answered, ask Mr. LeFranc. I must be off to Narrowby. What does it mean? Tell me by the way, sir, I'm out of temper and I can't wait. Except that I made the best instead of the worst of it, I told her what had happened under my window as plainly as I have told it here. She put down the knife that she was cleaning and folded her hands before her thinking. I wish I had never given John Yago that meeting, she said. When a man asks anything of a woman, the woman I find most repented if she says yes. She made that quaint reflection with a very troubled brow. The moonlight meeting had left some unwelcome remembrances in her mind. I saw that as plainly as I saw Naomi herself. What had John Yago said to her? I put the question with all needful delicacy, making my apologies beforehand. I should like to tell you. She began with strong emphasis on the last word. There she stopped, she turned pale, then suddenly flushed again to the deepest red. She took up the knife once more and went on cleaning it as industriously as ever. I mustn't tell you.  I have promised not to tell anybody. That's the truth. Forget all about it, sir, as soon as you can. Hush! Here's the spy you saw last night on the walk and who told Salis. Dreary, Miss Meadowcroft, opened the kitchen door. She carried an ostentatiously large prayer-book, and she looked at Naomi as only a jealous middle-aged woman can look at a younger and prettier woman than herself. Prayers, Miss Coldbrook, she said in her sourest manner. She paused and noticed me standing under the window. Prayers, Mr. LeFranc, she added, with a look of devout pity, directed exclusively to my address. We will follow you directly, Miss Meadowcroft, said Naomi. I have no desire to intrude on your secrets, Miss Coldbrook. With that accurate answer, our priestess took herself and her prayer-book out of the kitchen. I joined Naomi, entering the room by the garden door. She met me eagerly. I am not quite easy about something, she said. Did you tell me that you left Ambrose and Salis together? Yes. So both Salis tells Ambrose of what happened this morning. The same idea, as I have already mentioned, had occurred to my mind. I did my best to reassure Naomi. Mr. Yargo was out of the way, I replied. You and I can easily put things right in his absence. She took my arm. Come into prayers, she said. Ambrose will be there, and I shall find an opportunity of speaking to him. Neither Ambrose nor Salis was in the breakfast-room when we entered it. After waiting vainly for ten minutes, Mr. Meadowcroft told his daughter to read the prayers. Miss Meadowcroft read, thereupon, in the tone of a ninja woman, taking the throne of mercy by storm, and insisting on her rights. Breakfast followed, and still the brothers were absent. Miss Meadowcroft looked at her father and said, From bad to worse, sir, what did I tell you? Naomi instantly applied the antidote. The boys are no doubt detained over their work, uncle. She turned to me. You want to see the farm, Mr. LeFranc? Come and help me to find the boys. For more than an hour we visited one part of the farm after another without discovering the missing men. We found them at last near the outskirts of a small wood sitting together, talking on the trunk of a felled tree. Silas rose as we approached and walked away without a word of greeting or apology into the wood. As he got on his feet I noticed that his brother whispered something in his ear, and I heard him answer, All right. Ambrose, does that mean you have something to keep a secret from us? Ask Naomi approaching her lover with a smile. Is Silas ordered to hold his tongue? Ambrose kicked subtly at the loose stones lying about him. I noticed with a certain surprise that his favourite stick was not in his hand and was not lying near him. Business, he said in answer to Naomi, not very graciously. Business between Silas and me, that's what it means if you must know. Naomi went on, womanlike, with her questioning, heedless of the reception which they might meet with from an irritated man. Why were you both away at prayers and at breakfast time? She asked, next. We had much to do, Ambrose gruffly replied, and we were too far from the house. Very hard, said Naomi. This has never happened before since I had been at the farm. We live and learn, it has happened now. The tone in which he spoke would have warned any man to let him alone, but warnings which speak by implication are only thrown away on women. The woman, having still something in her mind to say, said it. Have you seen anything of John Yago this morning? The smoldering ill temper of Ambrose burst suddenly. Why, it was impossible to guess, into a flame. How many more questions am I to answer? He broke out violently. Are you the person putting me through my catechism? I have seen nothing of John Yago, and I have got my work to go on with. Will that do for you? He turned with an oath and followed his brother into the wood. Naomi's bright eyes looked up at me, flashing with indignation. What does he mean, Mr. LeFranc, by speaking to me in that way? Root-broot!  She paused. Her voice, look and manner suddenly changed. This has never happened before, sir. Has anything gone wrong? I declare I shouldn't know Ambrose again. He has so changed. Say, how does he strike you? I still made the best of a bad case. Something has upset his temper, I said. The mere strife, Miss Colbrook, upsets a man's temper sometimes. I speak as a man, and I know it. Give him time, and he will make his excuses, and all will be well again. My presentation of the case entirely failed to reassure my pretty companion. We went back to the house. Dinnertime came, and the brothers appeared. Their father spoke to them of their absence from morning prayers with needless severity, as I thought. They resented the reproof with needless indignation on their side and left the room. A sour smile of satisfaction showed itself on Miss Meadowcroft's tin lips. She looked at her father, then raised her eyes sadly to the ceiling and said, We can only pray for them, sir. Naomi disappeared after dinner. When I saw her again she had some news for me. I have been with Ambrose, she said, and he has begged my pardon. We made it up, Mr. LeFranc. Still—still—still what, Miss Naomi? He is not like himself, sir. He denies it, but I cannot help thinking he is hiding something from me. The day wore on, the evening came. I returned to my French novel. But not even Dumas himself could keep my attention to the story. What else I was thinking of, I cannot say. While I was out of spirits I am unable to explain. I wished myself back in England. I took a blind, unreasoning hatred to Moerwick Farm. Nine o'clock struck, and we all assembled again at supper, with the exception of John Yago. He was expected back to supper, and we waited for him a quarter of an hour, by Mr. Meadowcroft's own directions. John Yago never appeared. The night wore on, and still the absent man failed to return. Miss Meadowcroft volunteered to sit up for him. Naomi either, a little maliciously on must own, as the two women parted for the night. I withdrew to my room, and again I was unable to sleep. When sunrise came I went out as before to breathe the morning air. On the staircase I met Miss Meadowcroft ascending to her own room. Not a curl of her stiff grey hair was disarranged. Nothing about the impenetrable woman betrayed that she had been watching through the night. As Mr. Yago not returned, I asked.  We are in the hands of Providence, Mr. LeFranc. Mr. Yago must have been detained for the night at Narrowby. The daily routine of the meals resumed its unalterable course. Breakfast time came, and dinner time came, and no John Yago darkened the doors of Moerwick Farm. Mr. Meadowcroft and his daughter consulted together, and determined to send in search of the missing man. One of the more intelligent of the labourers was dispatched to Narrowby to make inquiries. This man returned late in the evening, bringing startling news to the farm. He had visited all the inns and all the places of business resort in Narrowby. He had made endless inquiries in every direction, with this result. No one had set eyes on John Yago. Everybody declared that John Yago had not entered the town. We all looked at each other, accepting the two brothers who were seated together in a dark corner of the room. The conclusion appeared to be inevitable. John Yago was a lost man. Recording by Tyge Hines The Dead Alive by Wilkie Collins Chapter 6 The Lime-Killn Mr. Meadowcroft was the first to speak. Somebody must find John, he said. Without losing a moment, added his daughter. Ambrose suddenly stepped out of the dark corner of the room. I will inquire. He said, Silas followed him. I'll go with you. He added. Mr. Meadowcroft interposed his authority. One of you will be enough, for the present at least. You go, Ambrose. Your brother may be wanted later. If any accident has happened, which God forbid, we may have to inquire in more than one direction. Silas, you will stay at the farm. The brothers withdrew together, Ambrose, to prepare for his journey. Silas to saddle one of the horses for him. Naomi slipped out after them. Left in company with Mr. Meadowcroft and his daughter, both devoured by anxiety about the missing man, and both trying to conceal it under an assumption of devoured resignation to circumstances, I need hardly add that I too retired, as soon as it was politely possible for me to leave the room. Ascending the stairs on my way to my own quarters, I discovered Naomi half hidden by the recess formed by an old-fashioned window-seed on the first landing. My bright little friend was in sore trouble. Her apron was over her face, and she was crying bitterly. Ambrose had not taken his leave as tenderly as usual. She was more firmly persuaded than ever that Ambrose was hiding something from her. We all waited anxiously for the next day. The next day made the mystery deeper than ever. The horse which had taken Ambrose to Narrowby was ridden back to the farm by a groom from the hotel. He delivered a written message from Ambrose which startled us. Further inquiries had positively proved that the missing man had never been near Narrowby. The only attainable tidings of his whereabouts were tidings derived from vague report. It was said that a man like John Yago had been seen the previous day in a railway car travelling on the line to New York. Acting on this imperfect information, Ambrose had decided on verifying the truth of the report by extending his inquiries to New York. This extraordinary proceeding forced the suspicion on me that something had really gone wrong. I kept my doubts to myself, but I was prepared from that moment to see the disappearance of John Yago followed by very grave results. The same day the results declared themselves. Time enough had now elapsed for report to spread through the district the news of what had happened at the farm. Already aware of the bad feeling existing between the men, the neighbours had been now informed, no doubt by the labourers present, of the deplorable scene that had taken place under my bedroom window. A public opinion declares itself in America without the slightest reserve, or the slightest care for consequences. A public opinion declared on this occasion that the lost man was a victim of foul play, and held one or both of the brother's meadow-craft responsible for his disappearance. Later in the day the reasonableness of this serious view of the case was confirmed in the popular mind by a startling discovery. It was announced that a Methodist preacher, lately settled at Morick, and greatly respected throughout the district, had dreamed of John Yago in the character of a murdered man, whose bones were hidden at Morick Farm. Before night the cry was general for a verification of the preacher's dream, not only in the immediate district, but in the town of Narrowby itself the public voice insisted on the necessity of a search for the mortal remains of John Yago at Morick Farm. In the terrible turn which matters had now taken, Mr. Meadowcroft the Elder displayed a spirit and energy for which I was not prepared. My sons have their faults, he said, a serious fault, and nobody knows it better than I do. My sons have behaved badly and ungratefully towards John Yago. I don't deny that, either. But Ambrose and Silas are not murderers. Make your search. I ask for it. No, I insist on it, after what has been said, in justice to my family and my name. The neighbors took him at his word. The Morick section of the American nation organized itself on the spot. The sovereign people met in committee, made speeches, elected competent persons to represent the public interests, and began to search the next day. The whole proceeding, ridiculously informal from a legal point of view, was carried on by these extraordinary people, with a stern and strict sense of duty as if it had been sanctioned by the highest tribunal in the land. Naomi met the calamity that had fallen on the household as resolutely as her uncle himself. The girl's courage rose with the call which was made on it. Her one anxiety was for Ambrose. He ought to be here, she said to me. The wretches in this neighborhood are wicked enough to say that his absence is a confession of his guilt. She was right. In the present temper of the popular mind, the absence of Ambrose was a suspicious circumstance in itself. We might send a telegraph to New York, I suggested, if you only knew where the message would be likely to find him. I know the hotel which the Medocrafts used at New York, she replied. I was sent there, after my father's death, to wait till Miss Medocraft could take me to Morric. We decided on telegraphing the hotel. I was writing the message, and Naomi was looking over my shoulder when we were startled by a strange voice speaking close behind us. Oh, that's his address, is it? said the voice. We wanted his address rather badly. The speaker was a stranger to me. Naomi recognized him as one of the neighbors. What do you want his address for? she asked sharply. I guess we have found the mortal remains of John Yaggle, Miss, the man replied. We've got silence already, and we want Ambrose too, on suspicion of murder. It's a lie!" cried Naomi furiously. A wicked lie! The man turned to me. Take her into the next room, mister. He said, I'll let her see for herself. We went together into the next room. In one corner, sitting by her father and holding his hand, we saw Stern and Stoney Miss Medocraft weeping silently. Opposite to them, crouched on the window-seat, his eyes wandering, his hands hanging helpless. We next discovered Silas Medocraft, plainly self-betrayed as a panic-stricken man. A few of the persons who had been engaged in the search were seated near, watching him. The mass of the strangers present stood congregated round the table in the middle of the room. They drew aside as they approached with Naomi and allowed us to have a clear view of certain objects placed on the table. The center object of the collection was a little heap of charred bones. Round this were arranged a knife, two metal buttons, and a stick, partially burned. The knife was recognized by the labors as the weapon John Yago habitually carried about with them, the weapon with which he had wounded Silas Medocraft's hand. The buttons Naomi herself declared to have a peculiar pattern on them, which had formally attracted her attention to John Yago's coat. As for the stick, burned as it was, I had no difficulty in identifying the quality hand-carved knob at the top. It was the heavy beech and stick, which I had snatched out of Silas's hand, and which I had restored to Ambrose on his claiming it as his own. In reply to my inquiries I was informed that the bones, the knife, the buttons, and the stick had all been found together in a lime kiln, then in use on the farm. Is it serious? Naomi whispered to me as we drew back from the table. It would have been sheer cruelty to deceive her now. Yes, I whispered back. It is serious. The search committee conducted its proceedings with the strictest regularity. The proper applications were made forthwith to a justice of the peace, and the justice issued his warrant. That night Silence was committed to prison, and an officer was dispatched to arrest Ambrose in New York. For my part I did the little I could to make myself useful. With the silent sanction of Mr. Meadowcroft and his daughter, I went to Narrowby, and secured the best legal assistance for the defence which the town could place at my disposal. This done there was no choice but to wait for news of Ambrose, and for the examination before the magistrate which was to follow. I shall pass over the misery in the house during the interval of expectation. No useful purpose could be served by describing it now. Let me only say that Naomi's conduct strengthened me in the conviction that she possessed a noble nature. I was unconscious of the state of my own feelings at the time, but I am now disposed to think that this was the epoch at which I began to envy Ambrose, the wife whom he had won. The telegraph bought us our first news of Ambrose. He had been arrested at the hotel, and he was on his way to Marek. The next day he arrived, and followed his brother to prison. The two were confined in separate cells and were forbidden all communication with each other. Two days later the preliminary examination took place. Ambrose and Silas Meadowcroft were charged before the magistrate with the wilful murder of John Yago. I was cited to appear as one of the witnesses, and at Naomi's own request I took the poor girl into court, and sat by her during the proceedings. My host also was present in his invalid chair with his daughter by his side. Such was the result of my voyage across the ocean in search of rest and quiet, and thus the time and chance fulfilled my first hasty foreboding of the dull life I was to lead at Marek farm. The Dead Alive by Wilkie Collins Chapter 7 The Materials in the Defence On our way to the chairs allotted to us in the magistrate's court, we passed a platform on which the prisoners were standing together. Silas took no notice of us. Ambrose made a friendly sign of recognition, and then rested his hand on the bar in front of him. As she passed beneath him, Naomi was just tall enough to reach his hand on tiptoe. She took it. I know you were innocent. She whispered, and gave him one look of loving encouragement as she followed me to her place. Ambrose never lost his self-control. I may have been wrong, but I thought this a bad sign. The case, as stated for the prosecution, told strongly against the suspected men. Ambrose and Silas Meadowcroft were charged with the murder of John Yago by means of the stick or by use of some other weapon, and with the deliberate destruction of the body by throwing it into the quick lime. In proof of this latter assertion the knife which the deceased individually carried about with them and the metal buttons which were known to belong to his coat were produced. It was argued that these indestructible substances and some fragments of the larger bones had alone escaped the action of the burning lime. Having produced medical witnesses to support this theory by declaring the bones to be human and having thus circumstantially asserted the discovery of the remains in the kiln, the prosecution next proceeded to prove that the missing man had been murdered by the two brothers and had been by them thrown into the quick lime as a means of concealing their guilt. Witness after witness deposed to the inveterate enmity against the deceased, displaced by Ambrose and Silas. The threatening language they habitually used towards them, their violent quarrels with him, which had become a public scandal throughout the neighbourhood and which had ended, on one occasion at least, in a blow. The disgraceful scene which had taken place under my window and the restoration to Ambrose on the morning of the fatal quarrel of the very stick which had been found among the remains of the dead man. These facts and events, and a host of minor circumstances besides, sworn to by witnesses whose credit was unimpeachable, pointed with terrible directness to a conclusion at which the prosecution had arrived. I looked at the brothers as the weight of the evidence pressed more and more heavily against them. To outward view, at least, Ambrose still maintained his self-possession. It was far otherwise with Silas. Abject terror showed itself in his ghastly face. In his great knotty hands, clinging convulsively to the bar at which he stood, in his staring eyes fixed in vacant terror on each witness who appeared. Public feeling judged him on the spot. There he stood, self-betrayed already, in the popular opinion as a guilty man. The one point gained in cross-examination by the defence related to the charred bones. Pressed at this point, a majority of the medical witnesses admitted that their examination had been a hurried one and that it was just possible that the bones might yet prove to be the remains of an animal and not of a man. The presiding magistrate decided upon this that a second examination should be made and that the member of the medical expert should be increased. Here the preliminary proceedings ended. The prisoners were remanded for three days. The frustration of Silas at the close of the inquiry was so complete that it was found necessary to have two men to support him on his leaving the court. Ambrose leaned over the bar to speak to Naomi before he followed the jailer out. Wait! He whispered confidently. Till they hear what I had to say.  Why don't they hear what he has to say at once? She asked. Anybody can see that Ambrose is innocent. It's a crime shame, sir, to send them back to prison. Don't you think so yourself? If I had confessed what I really thought, I should have said that Ambrose proved nothing to my mind except that he possessed rare powers of self-control. It was impossible to acknowledge this to my little friend. I diverted her mind from the question of our lover's innocence by proposing that we should get the necessary order and visit him in his prison on the next day. Naomi dried her tears and gave me a little grateful squeeze of the hand. Oh, my!  When your time comes to be married, sir, I guess a woman won't repent saying yes to you. Mr. Meadowcroft preserved unbroken silence as we walked back to the farm on either side of his invalid chair. His last reserves of resolution seemed to have given way under the overwhelming strain laid on them by the proceedings in court. His daughter, and stern indulgence to Naomi, mercifully permitted her opinion to glimmer on us only through the medium of quotation from scripture texts. If the texts meant anything, they meant that she had foreseen all that had happened and that the one sad aspect of the case to her mind was the death of John Yago unprepared to meet his end. I obtained the order of admission to the prison the next morning. We found Ambrose still confident of the favourable result for his brother and for himself of the inquiry before the magistrate. He seemed to be almost as eager to tell, as Naomi was to hear, the true story of what had happened at the Lyme Hill. The authorities of the prison, present of course at the interview, warned him to remember that what he said might be taken down in writing and produced against him in court. Take it down, gentlemen, and welcome. Ambrose replied, I have nothing to fear, I am only telling the truth. With that he turned to Naomi and began his narrative, as nearly as I can remember in these words. I may as well make a clean breast of it at starting, my girl. After Mr. LeFranc left us that morning, I asked Silas how he came by my stick. In telling me how, Silas also told me of the words that had passed between him and John Yago under Mr. LeFranc's window. I was angry and jealous, and I own it freely, Naomi. I thought the worst that could be taught about you and John. Here Naomi stopped him without ceremony. Was that what made you speak to me as you spoke when we found you at the wood? She asked. Yes. And was that what made you leave me when you went away to narrow me without giving me a kiss at parting? It was. Beg my pardon for it before you say a word more. I beg your pardon. Say you were ashamed of yourself. I am ashamed of myself. Ambrose answered penitently. Now you may go on. Said Naomi. Now I am satisfied. Ambrose went on. We were on our way to the clearing at the other side of the wood while Silas was talking to me, and as he luck would have it we took the path that led by the lime kiln. Turning the corner we met John Yago on his way to narrow me. I was too angry, I tell you, to let him pass quietly. I gave him a bit of my mind. His blood was up too, I suppose, and he spoke out on his side as freely as I did. I own, I threatened him with a stick, but I'll swear to it I meant him no harm.  He comes from out west where they are always ready with one weapon or another handy in their pockets. It's likely enough he didn't mean to harm me either but how could I be sure of that? When he stepped up to me and showed his weapon I dropped the stick and closed with him. With one hand I wrenched the knife away from him and with the other I caught him by the collar of his rotten old coat and gave him his shaking that made his bones rattle in his skin.  I shided into the quick lime close by us and I pitched the knife after the cloth and if Silas hadn't stopped me I think it's likely I might have shied John Yago himself into the lime next. As it was Silas kept hold of me. Silas shouted out to him be offered you and don't come back again if you don't want to be burned in the kiln. He stood looking at us for a minute fetching his breath and holding his torn coat round him then he spoke with a deadly quiet voice and a deadly quiet look. Many a true word Mr. Silas he says is spoken in jest. I shall not come back again. He turned about and left us we stood staring at each other like a couple of fools you don't think he means it I says whoosh said Silas he's too sweet on Naomi not to come back what's the matter now Naomi? I had noticed it too she started and turned pale when Ambrose repeated to her what Silas had said to him nothing is the matter Naomi answered your brother has no right to take liberties with my name go on did Silas say any more while he was about it? yes he looked into the kiln and he says what made you throw away the knife Ambrose how does a man know why he does anything I says when he does it in a passion it's a ripping good knife said Silas in your place I should have kept it I picked up the stick off the ground who says I have lost it yet I answered him like that I got up on the side of the kiln and began sounding for the knife to bring it you know by means of the stick with an easy reach of a shovel or some such thing give us your hand I says to Silas let me stretch out a bit and I'll have it in no time instead of finding the knife I came nigh to falling myself into the burning lime the vapour overpowered me I suppose all I know is I turned giddy and dropped the stick in the kiln I should have followed the stick to a dead certainty but for Silas pulling me back by the hand let it be said Silas if I hadn't hold of you John Yago's knife would have been the death of you after all he led me away by the arm and we went on together on the road to the wood we stopped where you found us and sat down on the felled tree we had a little more talk about John Yago it ended in our agreeing to wait and see what happened and to keep our own counsel in the meantime you and Mr. LeFranc came upon us and they owe me while we were still talking and you guessed right when you guessed that we had a secret from you you know the secret now there he stopped I put a question to him the first that I had asked yet had you or your brother any fear at the time of the charge which had since been brought against you I said no such thought entered our heads sir Ambrose answered how could we foresee that the neighbours would search the kiln and say what they have said of us the weird was that the old man might hear of the quarrel and be bitterer against us than ever I was the more anxious of the two to keep things secret because I had Naomi to consider as well as the old man put yourself in my place and you will own sir that the prospect at home is not a pleasant one for me if John Yago really kept away from the farm and if it came out that it was all my doing it is certainly an explanation of his conduct but it is not satisfactory to my mind as you believe then I went on John Yago has carried out his threat of not returning to the farm according to you he is now alive and in hiding somewhere certainly said Ambrose certainly repeated Naomi do you believe the report that he was seen travelling on the railway to New York I believe it firmly sir and what is more I believe I was on his track I was only too anxious to find them but I would have found them if they would have let me stay in New York I looked at Naomi I believe it too she said John Yago is keeping away do you suppose he is afraid of Ambrose and Silas she hesitated he may be afraid of them she replied with a strong emphasis on the word may but you don't think it likely she hesitated again I pressed her again do you think there is any other motive for his absence her eyes dropped to the floor she answered obstinately almost doggedly I can't say I addressed myself to Ambrose have you anything more to tell us I asked no he said I have told you all I know about it I rose to speak to the lawyer whose services I had retained he had helped us to get the order of admission and he had accompanied us to the prison seated the party it kept silence throughout attentively watching the effect of Ambrose Meadowcroft's narrative on the officers of the prison and on me is this the defense I inquired in a whisper this is the defense Mr. LeFranc what do you think between ourselves between ourselves I think the magistrate will commit them for trial on the charge of murder yes on the charge of murder End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 of The Dead Alive This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Pam Moscato The Dead Alive by Wilkie Collins Chapter 8 The Confession My replies to the lawyer accurately express the conviction in my mind the narrative related by Ambrose the appearance in my eyes of a fabricated story got up and clumsily got up to pervert the plain meaning of the circumstantial evidence produced by the prosecution I reached this conclusion reluctantly and regretfully for Naomi's sake I said all I could say to shake the absolute confidence which she felt in the discharge of the prisoners at the next examination the day of the adjourned inquiry arrived Naomi and I attended the court together but O'Croft was unable on this occasion to leave the house his daughter was present walking to the court by herself and occupying a seat by herself on his second appearance at the bar Silas was more composed and more like his brother no new witnesses were called by the prosecution we began the battle over the medical evidence relating to the charred bones and to some extent we won the victory in other words we forced the doctors to acknowledge that O'Croft referred widely in their opinions three confessed that they were not certain two went still further and declared that the bones were the bones of an animal not of a man we made the most of this and then we entered upon the defense founded on Ambrose Meadowcroft's story necessarily no witnesses could be called on our side whether this circumstance discouraged him or whether he privately shared my opinion of his client's statement I cannot say it is only certain that the lawyer spoke mechanically doing his best no doubt but doing it without genuine conviction or earnestness on his own part Naomi cast an anxious glance at me as he sat down the girl's hand as I took it turned cold in mine she saw plain signs of the failure of the defense in the look and manner of the counsel for the prosecution but she waited resolutely until the presiding magistrate announced his decision I had only too clearly foreseen what he would feel it to be his duty to do Naomi's head dropped on my shoulder as he said the terrible words which committed Ambrose and Silas Meadowcroft to take their trial on the charge of murder I let her out of the court into the air as I passed the bar I saw Ambrose deadly pale looking after us as we left him the magistrate's decision had evidently daunted him his brother Silas had dropped an abject terror on the jailer's chair the miserable wretch shook and shuttered dumbly like a cow dog Miss Meadowcroft returned with us to the farm preserving unbroken silence on the way back I could detect nothing in her bearing which suggested any compassionate feeling for the prisoners in her stern and secret nature Naomi's withdrawal to her own room we were left together for a few minutes and then to my astonishment the outwardly merciless woman showed me that she too was one of Eve's daughters and could feel and suffer in her own hard way like the rest of us she suddenly stepped close up to me and laid her hand on my arm you are a lawyer, ain't you? she asked yes have you had any experience in your profession? ten years experience do you think? she stopped abruptly her hard face softened her eyes dropped to the ground don't notice me she turned away I waited in the firm persuasion that the unspoken question in her mind would sooner or later force its way to utterance by her lips I was right she came back to me unwillingly like a woman acting under some influence which the utmost exertion of her will was powerless to resist do you believe John Jago is still a living man? she put the question vehemently as if the words rushed out of her mouth in spite of her I do not believe it, I answered remember what John Jago has suffered at the hands of my brother she persisted is it not in your experience that he should take a sudden resolution to leave the farm? I replied as plainly as before it is not in my experience she stood looking at me for a moment with a face of blank despair then bowed her gray head in silence and left me as she crossed the room to the door I saw her look upward and I heard her say to herself softly between her teeth vengeance is mine I will repay, sayeth the Lord it was the requiem of John Jago pronounced by the woman who loved him when I next saw her her mask was on once more Miss Metalcroft was herself again Miss Metalcroft could sit by impenetrably calm while the lawyers discussed the terrible position of her brothers with the scaffold in view of the possibilities of the case left by myself I began to feel uneasy about Naomi I went upstairs and knocking softly at her door made my inquiries from outside the clear young voice answered me sadly I am trying to bear it I won't distress you when we meet again I descended the stairs feeling my first suspicion of the true nature of my interest in the American girl why had her answer brought the tears into my eyes? I went out walking alone to think undisturbedly why did the tones of her voice dwell on my ear all the way? why did my hand still feel the last cold faint pressure of her fingers when I led her out of court? I took a sudden resolution to go back to England when I returned to the farm it was evening the lamp was not yet lighted in the hall pausing to accustom my eyes to the obscurity indoors I heard the voice of the lawyer whom we had employed for the defense someone very earnestly I'm not to blame said the voice she snatched the paper out of my hand before I was aware of her do you want it back? asked the voice of Miss Meadowcroft no, it's only copy if keeping it will help to quiet her let her keep it by all means good evening saying these last words the lawyer approached me on his way out of the house I stopped him without ceremony I felt an ungovernable curiosity who snatched the paper out of your hand? I asked bluntly the lawyer started I had taken him by surprise the instinct of professional reticence made him pause before he answered me in the brief interval of silence Miss Meadowcroft replied to my question from the other end of the hall Naomi Colbrook snatched the paper out of his hand what paper? a door opened softly behind me Naomi herself appeared on the threshold Naomi herself answered my question I will tell you, she whispered come in here one candle only was burning in the room I looked at her by the dim light my resolution to return to England instantly became one of the lost ideas of my life good God, I exclaimed what has happened now? she handed me the paper which she had taken from the lawyer's hand the copy to which he had referred was a copy of the confession of Silas Meadowcroft on his return to prison he accused his brother Ambrose of the murder of John Jago he declared on his oath that he had seen his brother Ambrose commit the crime in the popular phrase I could hardly believe my own eyes I read the last sentences of the confession for the second time I heard their voices at the lime kiln they were having words about cousin Naomi I ran to the place to part them not in time I saw Ambrose strike the deceased a terrible blow on the head with his Ambrose's heavy stick the deceased dropped without a cry I put my hand on his heart he was dead I was horribly frightened Ambrose threatened to kill me next if I said a word to any living soul he took up the body and cast it into the quick lime and threw the stick in after it we went on together to the wood we sat down on a felled tree on the side of the wood Ambrose made up the story that we were to tell if what he had done was found out he made me repeat it after him like a lesson we were still at it when cousin Naomi and Mr. LaFranc came up to us they know the rest this on my oath is a true confession I make it of my own free will repenting me sincerely that I did not make it before signed Silas Meadowcroft I laid down the paper and once more she spoke to me with a strange composure immovable determination was in her eye immovable determination was in her voice Silas has lied away his brother's life to save himself she said I seek cowardly falsehood and cowardly cruelty in every line on that paper Ambrose is innocent and the time has come to prove it you forget I said that we have just failed to prove it John Jago is alive and from all who know him she went on help me friend LaFranc to advertise for him in the newspapers I drew back from her in speechless distress I own I believed that the new misery which had fallen on her had affected her brain you don't believe it she said shut the door I obeyed her she seated herself and pointed to a chair near her sit down she proceeded I am going to do a wrong thing but there is no help for it I am going to break a sacred promise you remember that moonlight night when I met him on the garden walk John Jago yes now listen I am going to tell you what passed between John Jago and me End of Chapter 8 Recording by Pam Muscato Chapter 9 of The Dead Alive This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Pam Muscato The Dead Alive by Wilkie Collins Chapter 9 The Advertisement I waited in silence for the disclosure that was now to come Naomi began by asking me a question You remember when we went to see Ambrose in the prison she said perfectly Ambrose told us of something which his villain of a brother said of John Jago and me do you remember what it was I remembered perfectly Silas had said John Jago is too sweet on Naomi not to come back That's so Naomi remarked when I had repeated the words I couldn't help starting when I heard that Silas had said and I thought you noticed me I did notice you Did you wonder what it meant Yes I'll tell you it meant this What Silas Meadowcroft said to his brother of John Jago It startled me to find my own thought in a man's mind spoken for me by a man I am the person, sir who has driven John Jago away from Moorwick Farm and I am the person who can and will bring him back again There was something in her manner more than in her words which let the light in suddenly on my mind You have told me the secret I said John Jago is in love with you Mad about me she rejoined dropping her voice to a whisper Starring Mad That's the only word for him After we had taken a few turns on the gravel walk he suddenly broke out like a man beside himself he fell down on his knees he kissed my gown he kissed my feet he sobbed and he cried for love of me I'm not badly off for courage, sir considering I am a woman no man that I can call the mind ever really scared me before but I own John Jago frightened me oh my my heart was in my mouth and my knees shook under me I begged and prayed of him to get up and go away no there he knelt and held by the skirt of my gown the words poured out from him like well like nothing I can think of but water from a pump his happiness and his life and his hopes and earth and heaven and lord only knows what besides all depended he said on a word from me I plucked up my spirit enough at that to remind him that I was promised ambrose I think you ought to be ashamed of yourself I said to own that you're wicked enough to love me when you know I am promised to another man when I spoke to him he took a new turn he began abusing ambrose that straightened me up I snatched my gown out of his hand and I gave him my whole mind I hate you, I said even if I wasn't promised ambrose I wouldn't marry you, no not if there wasn't another man left in the world to ask me he saw I was in earnest at last he got up from my feet and he settled down quiet again all on a sudden you have said enough that was how he answered me you have broken my life I have no hopes and no prospects now I had a pride in the farm miss and a pride in my work I bore with your brutish cousins hatred of me I was faithful to Mr. Meadowcroft's interests all for your sake Naomi Colbrook all for your sake now I have done with my life at the farm you will never be troubled with me again I am going away as the dumb creatures go when they are sick to hide myself in a corner and die do me one last favor don't make me the laughing stock of the whole neighborhood I can't bear that it maddens me only to think of it give me your promise never to tell any living soul what I have said to you tonight your sacred promise to the man whose life you have broken when he bathed me I gave him my sacred promise with the tears in my eyes yes that is so after telling him I hated him and I did hate him I cried over his misery I did mercy what fools women are what is the horrid perversity sir which makes us always ready to pity the men he held out his hand to me and he said goodbye forever and I pitied him I said I'll shake hands with you if you will give me your promise in exchange for mine I beg of you not to leave the firm what will my uncle do if you go away stay here and be friends with me and forget and forgive Mr. John he gave me his promise he can refuse me nothing and he gave it again when I saw him again the next morning yes I'll do him justice though I do hate him I believe he honestly meant to keep his word as long as my eye was on him it was only when he was left to himself that the devil tempted him to break his promise and leave the firm I was brought up to believe in the devil Mr. LeFranc and I find it explains many things it explains John Jago only let me find out where he has gone and I'll engage he shall come back and clear Ambrose of the suspicion which his vile brother has cast on him here is the pen all ready for you advertise for him friend LeFranc and do it right away for my sake I let her run on without attempting to dispute her conclusions until she could say no more when she put the pen into my hand I began the composition of the advertisement as obediently as if I too believed that John Jago was a living man in the case of any one else I should have openly acknowledged that my own convictions remained unshaken if no quarrel had taken place at the lime kiln I should have been quite ready as I viewed the case to believe that the disappearance was referable to the terrible disappointment which Naomi inflicted on him the same morbid dread of ridicule which had led him to assert that he cared nothing for Naomi when he and Silas had quarreled under my bedroom window might also have impelled him to withdraw himself secretly and suddenly from the scene of his discomforture but to ask me to believe after what had happened at the lime kiln that he was still living I need to take Ambrose Meadowcroft's statement for granted as a true statement of facts I had refused to do this from the first and I still persisted in taking that course if I had been called upon to decide the balance of probability between the narrative related by Ambrose in his defense and the narrative related by Silas in his confession I must have owned no matter how unwillingly that the confession was, to my mind the story of the two Could I say this to Naomi? I would have written fifty advertisements inquiring for John Yago rather than say it and you would have done the same if you had been as fond of her as I was I drew out the advertisement for her insertion in the Morwick Mercury in these terms Murder Printers of newspapers throughout the United States are desired to publish that Ambrose Meadowcroft Morwick County are committed for trial on the charge of murdering John Yago now missing from the farm and from the neighborhood any person who can give information of the existence of said Yago may save the lives of two wrongly accused men by making immediate communication Yago is about five feet four inches high he is spare and wiry his complexion is extremely pale his eyes are dark and very bright and restless the lower part of his face is concealed by a thick black beard and mustache the whole appearance of the man is wild and flighty I added the date and the address that evening a servant was sent on horseback to Narrabee to procure the insertion of the advertisement in the next issue of the newspaper when we parted that night Naomi looked almost like her brighter and happier self now that the advertisement was on its way to the printing office she was more than sanguine she was certain of the result you don't know how you have comforted me she said in her frank warm hearted way when we parted for the night all the newspapers will copy it and we shall hear of John Yago before the week is out she turned to go and came back again to me I will never forgive Silas for writing that confession she whispered in my ear if he ever lives under the same roof with Ambrose again I believe I wouldn't marry Ambrose if he did there she left me through the wakeful hours of the night my mind dwelt on her last words that she should contemplate under any circumstances even the bare possibility of not marrying Ambrose was I am ashamed to say a direct encouragement to certain hopes which I had already begun to form in secret the next day's mail brought me a letter on business my clerk wrote to inquire if there was any chance of my returning to England in time to appear in court at the opening of next law term I answered without hesitation it is still impossible for me to fix the date of my return Naomi was in the room while I was writing how would she have answered I wonder if I had told her the truth and said you are responsible for this letter end of chapter 9 recording by Pam Muscato chapter 10 of The Dead Alive this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Pam Muscato The Dead Alive by Wilkie Collins chapter 10 The Sheriff and the Governor the question of time was now a serious question at Moorwick Farm in six weeks the court for the trial of criminal cases was to be opened at Narraby during this interval the event of any importance occurred many idle letters reached us relating to the advertisement for John Yago but no positive information was received not the slightest trace of the lost man turned up not the shadow of a doubt was cast on the assertion of the prosecution that his body had been destroyed in the kiln Silas Meadowcroft held firmly to the horrible confession that he had made his brother Ambrose with equal resolution asserted his innocence and reiterated the statement which he had already advanced at regular periods I accompanied Naomi to visit him in the prison as the day appointed for the opening of the court approached he seemed to falter a little in his resolution his manner became restless and he grew irritably suspicious about the nearest trifles this change did not necessarily imply the consciousness of guilt it might merely have indicated natural nervous agitation as the time for the trial drew near Naomi noticed the alteration in her lover it greatly increased her anxiety that would never shook her confidence in Ambrose except at mealtimes I was left during the period of which I am now writing almost certainly alone with the charming American girl Miss Meadowcroft searched the newspapers for tidings of the living John Yago in the privacy of her own room Mr. Meadowcroft would see nobody but his daughter and occasionally one or two old friends I have since had reason to believe that Naomi in these days of our intimate association discovered the true nature of the feeling with which she had inspired me but she kept her secret her manner toward me steadily remained the manner of a sister she never overstepped by a hair breath the safe limits of the character that she had assumed the sittings of the court began examining the confession of Silas Meadowcroft the grand jury found a true bill against both the prisoners the day appointed for their trial was the first day in the new week I had carefully prepared Naomi's mind for the decision of the grand jury she bore the new blow bravely if you are not tired of it she said come with me to the prison tomorrow Ambrose will need a little comfort by that time she paused and looked at the day's letters lying on the table still not a word about John Yago she said and all the papers have copied the advertisement I felt so sure we should hear of him long before this do you still feel sure that he is living I ventured to ask I am as certain of it as ever she replied firmly he is somewhere in hiding perhaps he is in disguise suppose we know no more of him that we know now when the trial begins suppose the jury she stopped shuddering death shameful death on the scaffold might be the terrible result of the consultation of the jury we have waited for news to come to us long enough Naomi resumed we must find the tracks of John Yago for ourselves there is a week yet before the trial begins who will help me to make inquiries will you be the man friendly Frank it is needless to add though I knew nothing would come of it that I consented to be the man we arranged to apply that day for the order of admission to the prison and having seen Ambrose to devote ourselves immediately to the contemplated search was to be conducted was more than I could tell and more than Naomi could tell we were to begin by applying to the police to help us to find John Yago and we were then to be guided by circumstances was there ever a more hopeless program than this circumstances declared themselves against us at the starting I applied as usual for the order of admission to the prison and the order was for the first time refused no reason being assigned by the persons in authority for taking force inquire as I might the only answer given was not today at Naomi's suggestion we went to the prison to seek the explanation which was refused to us at the office the jailer on duty at the outer gate was one of Naomi's many admirers he solved the mystery cautiously in a whisper the sheriff and the governor of the prison were then speaking privately with Ambrose Metalcroft in his cell they had expressly directed that no person should be admitted to see the prisoner that day but themselves what did it mean we returned wondering to the farm there Naomi speaking by chance to one of the female servants made certain discoveries early that morning the sheriff had been brought to Moorwick by an old friend of the Metalcrofts a long interview had been held between Mr. Metalcroft and his daughter and the official personage introduced by the friend leaving the farm the sheriff had gone straight to the prison and had proceeded with the governor to visit Ambrose in his cell was some potent influence being brought privately to bear on Ambrose appearances certainly suggested that inquiry supposing the influence to have been really exerted the next question followed what was the object in view we could only wait and see our patience was not severely tried the event of the next day enlightened us in a very unexpected manner before noon the neighbors brought startling news from the prison to the farm Ambrose Metalcroft had confessed himself to be the murderer of John Jago he had signed the confession in the presence of the sheriff and the governor on that very day I saw the document it is needless to reproduce it here in substance Ambrose confessed what Silas had confessed claiming however to have only struck Jago under intolerable provocation so as to reduce the nature of his offense against the law for murder to manslaughter was the confession really the true statement of what had taken place or had the sheriff and the governor acting in the interest of the family name persuaded Ambrose to try this desperate means of escaping the ignominy of death on the scaffold the sheriff and the governor preserved in penetrable silence until the pressure put on them judicially at the trial obliged them to speak who was to tell Naomi of this last and saddest of all the calamities which had fallen on her knowing how I loved her in secret I felt an invincible reluctance to be the person who revealed Ambrose Meadowcroft's degradation to his betrothed wife had any other member of the family told her what had happened the lawyer was able to answer me Miss Meadowcroft had told her I was shocked when I heard it Miss Meadowcroft was the last person in the house to spare the poor girl Miss Meadowcroft would make the hard tidings doubly terrible to bearer in the telling I tried to find Naomi for the first time in my life but I had no success she had been always accessible at other times was she hiding herself from me now the idea occurred to me as I was descending the stairs after vainly knocking at the door of her room I was determined to see her I waited a few minutes and then ascended the stairs again suddenly on the landing I met her just leaving her room she tried to run back I caught her by the arm and detained her with her free hand you once told me I had comforted you I said to her gently won't you let me comfort you now she still struggled to get away and still kept her head turned from me don't you see that I am ashamed to look you in the face she said in low broken tones let me go I still persisted in trying to soothe her I drew her to the window seat I said I would wait until she was able to speak to me she dropped on the seat and rung her hands in her lap her downcast eyes still obstinately avoided meeting mine oh she said to herself what madness possessed me is it possible that I ever disgraced myself by loving Ambrose Meadowcroft she shuddered as the idea found its way to expression on her lips the tears rolled slowly over her cheeks don't despise me Mr. LeFranc she said faintly I tried honestly tried to put the confession before her in its least unfavorable light his resolution has given way I said has done this despairing of proving his innocence in terror of the scaffold she rose with an angry stamp of her foot she turned her face on me with the deep red flush of shame in it and the big tears glistening in her eyes no more of him she said sternly if he is not a murderer what else is he a liar and a coward in which of his characters does he disgrace me most I have done with him forever I will never speak to him again seriously away from her advanced a few steps toward her own door stopped and came back to me the generous nature of the girl spoke in her next words I am not ungrateful to you friend LeFranc a woman in my place is only a woman and when she is shamed as I am she feels it very bitterly give me your hand god bless you she put my hand to her lips before I was aware of her and kissed it and ran back to her room I sat down on the place which I had occupied she had looked at me for one moment when she kissed my hand I forgot Ambrose and his confession I forgot the coming trial I forgot my professional duties and my English friends there I sat in a fool's illicium of my own making with absolutely nothing in my mind but the picture of Naomi's face at the moment when she had last looked at me I have already mentioned that I was in love with her I merely add this to satisfy you that I tell the truth end of chapter 10 recording by Pam Moscato