are always got up with a certain formality | the question of Dudley's marriage with of preparation, to meet the public eye, or the queen had been again brought forward for a purpose. Here is a simple private into public discussion. Of course it exletter of the very time, naturally written, on an ordinary subject, not likely to meet any other eye than that of the person written to, and therefore most unlikely to contain any fictitious or misleading sentiment. Being merely a friendly message about such every-day matters as pies and a cook, it suddenly turns off, on the receipt of serious news, to a tone which would have simply been a piece of sickening hypocrisy, if the writer had ever had the faintest inkling of ill-will or ill-conduct on the part of Dudley towards his wife. If any such feeling had existed, it must have been well known to his own brother-matter inquired into: so Cecil orders in-law. There would be, if we could only recover it, conclusive evidence upon this mysterious story, in the written depositions taken at the coroner's inquest, and the full statements of all who were examined. But nothing has hitherto been found in any depository of records in the county of Berks. There remains now only one more item of evidence in Dudley's favor, found (also quite accidentally) among the old letters at Longleat. It is a very important one as bearing upon this story; and it is also another curious instance of the value of secret history. One of our living historians has taken much trouble in dealing with Dudley's case. He has had the benefit of much correspondence and other matters newly brought to light, both among our own records and those of Spain. He has carefully weighed and sifted all this, and though Lord Robert is apparently not one of his favorites, still upon this particular question Mr. Froude is, upon the whole, inclined to acquit him personally. But there is one particular document which has yet to be explained before the acquit tal is quite satisfactory. This is in the large collection of papers at Hatfield. It appears to Mr. Froude (if not explained) to show that Dudley was not so zealous as he seemed to be, that his unhappy wife was indeed murdered, and that with proper exertion the guilty persons might have been discovered. The Hatfield document refers to Mr. John Appleyard, half-brother to Amye Robsart, one of the relatives whom Dudley insisted on bringing to Cumnor to watch the proceedings at the coroner's inquest. În 1567, seven years after Amye's death, cited the vigilant jealousy of some, the religious or political opposition of others. The old suspicions about Amye's death were not forgotten. The substance of the Hatfield document is, that it had been reported to Cecil (in 1567) that John Appleyard had been heard, some time before, in a moment of irritation, to let fall words to this effect: that he (Appleyard) “ had not been satisfied with the verdict of the jury at her death; but that, for the sake of Dudley, he had covered the murder of his sister." Upon this being reported to Cecil, it became imperative to have the Appleyard's attendance, and requires him to explain, very precisely, what he had meant by those words. Appleyard explained away his words in this manner: that though he would not exactly say Dudley was himself guilty, yet he (Áppleyard) had thought it would be no difficult matter to find out who the guilty parties were. That is the substance of the only remaining paper upon which Mr. Froude appears to suspend his judgment. He says: "If Appleyard spoke the truth, there is no more to be said. The conclusion seems inevitable, that though Dud ley was innocent of direct influence, the unhappy lady was sacrificed to his ambi tion, and was made away with by persons who hoped to profit by Dudley's elevation to the throne." But there is another document, accidentally found at Longleat, which shows. that Appleyard was not much to be depended on, and that he had second thoughts about the language he had used. This is a letter, telling the news of the day in the most inartificial manner: just like that of the Earl of Huntingdon's before mentioned, which began about venison pasties, and ended with condolence on the news just come of the death of the wife. It is from Sir Henry Nevill to Sir John Thynne, the builder of Longleat House. Sir Henry Nevill was a Berkshire gentleman, a friend of Sir John Thynne, writing to him from London about family news and the events of the day. Sir Henry Nevill to Sir John Thynne. (1567, After my herty comendacyons unte yowe & my Lady, & the lyke from awll our wemen who I thanke God are awl in helthe. I hav so rare messengers that I may trust that I dare not ventewr no letters of any importance. | may perhaps be considered sufficient to Now, havyng Ludlo, I wyll send you seche as establish so much as this: viz., that here are currant. On Fryday in the Star- whereas little or nothing had hitherto Chamber was Apylyeard brought forth, who been known about the married life of showed himself a malytyous beast, for he dyd Dudley and Amye, it is collected from confesse he accusyd my Lord of Lecyster only of these documents that she was never unmalyes: & that he hath byn about yt thes 3 years, & now, bycausse he cold not go thoroghe kindly treated by him. If she was weak with his bysens [business] to promot, he fell in and strange in her mind and an unfit this rage ageynst my lord & wold hav acusid companion for him at court and in socihym of 3 thynges: 1. of kyllyng his wif. 2. of ety, she was at all events not put away sending the Lord Derby in to Scotland. 3. for into a lonely house, but lived with friends, letting the quen from maryedge. He cravyd and had abundant means supplied for all of pardon for awll thes thyngs My lord comforts. Opinions as to the cause of keeper answeryd that... in King Henry 7th her death will still continue to be divided. dayes, there was one lost his ears for slawndering the Cheff Justyce: so as I thinke his end wyl be the pillyry. [The letter then continues with other miscellaneous matter.] Those who hold to the belief that she was certainly murdered, may at all events be willing to allow that the husband of her youth was, with all his faults, not such a monster as to dictate the murder, but that it was the act of officious partisans speculating upon some benefit to themselves through Dudley's elevation. Some, struck by the remarkable circumstance of her ordering all her own servants away from the house on the morning of the day on which she was John Appleyard's grievance against found dead by them on their return, and Dudley (as stated in the letter) was that connecting this with the great probability Dudley had not promoted Appleyard's of rumors of intended mischief having "business" in some way, but for three reached her ear and affected her spirits years had neglected him; whereupon (as appears from the "prayers to be deAppleyard turned against Dudley and livered from desperation " mentioned by did all he could to revive the slander her maid), may think that she destroyed about the murder of the wife. What the herself. particular "business was that Appleyard had expected Dudley to "promote," cannot be stated for certain, but it was perhaps this. In another original letter at Longleat, so far back as the 18th of August, 1560 (the year of Amye's death), Sir Thomas Gresham writes to Lord Robert, requesting him to use his influence in obtaining for John Appleyard the lordship of Wyndham, Co. Norfolk, for his better maintenance in the service of her Majesty in those parts. Probably Dudley had not done all he could to help his kinsman, and it is not unlikely that this was the disappointment that had exasperated Appleyard, and had caused him to let fall his evil speeches. However, be the provocation what it might, John Appleyard had not spoken the truth. At least, he confessed in the Star Chamber that he had been a liar; and Sir Henry Neville and the lord keeper clearly had no doubt about it. Such are the few particulars, hitherto wholly unknown, supplied by the Longleat papers, on the question of Dudley's guilt or innocence in the case of Amye Robsart. They were gleaned one by one at intervals, and after patient scrutiny of a very large mass of faded and difficult handwriting. The documents and letters in which they occur are original, contemporary, and altogether inartificial. With out any wish to draw forced conclusions from them, but only to weigh their fair bearing upon this celebrated case, they Some may agree with Mrs. Pinto, the lady's maid, and the jury, that there was no violence, but chance: " a very misfortune." She was found lying on the hall floor. Had there been any violence, such as strangling, suffocation, or the dagger, some marks must have been visible on her person or features. The jury must have seen these; but they found none. A murder of any kind could hardly have been committed in a house in the middle of the day without some one's attention being attracted by screams or other disturbance. There were three ladies, Mrs. Owen, Mrs. Forster, and Mrs. Odingsell, besides their servants, in some part of the house, yet they could give no account. A fainting-fit may have produced a fall, or a fall have produced a fit. People die in a moment from spasms of the heart, or, from various causes, are found dead in their chair or bed, without any suspicion of murder. Suggestions of this sort may perhaps be received with impatience by readers who have long since made up their minds; but those who care for truth and justice will weigh all that is to be said on more sides than one. Whatever the im-1 mediate cause of Amye Robsart's death may really have been, it is certain that the eye and ear of the public are continually refreshed with much that is known to be untrue in the details, whilst the chief scandal itself has never yet been proved to be true in the main. For by what evidence was it ever proved to be a murder? Against her husband we all know there were many other accusations which were never substantiated. That he was personally responsible for the death of Amye Robsart, the evidence has yet to be produced.* J. E. JACKSON. All the documents discovered at Longleat to which reference is made in this article are printed in extenso in the Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Magazine, No. 49. Bull, Devizes. From Temple Bar. THE FRERES. BY MRS. ALEXANDER, AUTHOR OF "THE WOOING O'T." CHAPTER XLIV. OF all the party, Mab was the least moved by the tragedy of Lady Elton's death. She had formed no particular attachment to her sister's friend, of whom, to say the truth, she stood somewhat in awe, as of an inexorable fate, exacting painful sacrifices in the way of frequent hand-washing and hair-brushing. Still, she was grave and sorry when Grace told her of the event, and much moved by the rare sight of her sister's tears. Her arms were around Grace's neck directly, and she fondled her tenderly, as though another and utterly different nature were developed in her by the touch of grief. Of course, she plied both mother and sister with a continuous stream of most difficult questions as to the cause of Lady Elton's death; of deaths in general; as to which side of the table the cork dropped out of the bottle of chloroform; as to the probable conduct and opinions of Luigi on the occasion. Was Lady Elton quite dead upon earth? Well, then, what was the real Lady Elton who was inside of her doing now? Could she see them? for people did come back sometimes. There was their great-great-grandfather, Randal de Burgh, who was shot by D'Archy of Connemara - he used to walk by the shore on stormy nights! Nurse's son saw him twice. And then, in a tone of calm consideration, "I wish, Mab, you would not talk in such a dreadfully irreverent manner," said Mrs. Frere, with much displeasure; repeating nurse's ridiculous stories at such a time." 66 "She did not mean any disrespect, mother!" suggested Grace. Now, Mab dear, run away to school." "Why, must I go to school? My black frock is not ready. Had I not better stay at home, mammy?" "No; certainly not!" cried Grace, shrinking from the notion of a whole day of cross-examination. "Mother and I are going to be very busy; and you will be much happier at school." "I do not think so," returned Mab. And the entente cordiale between the sisters seemed for a moment in danger of interruption. The entrance of Balfour, however, changed Mab's views. He called thus early to ask if the morning's post had brought any further intelligence; but Mrs. Frere had been much disappointed by not receiving any letters. Balfour, seeing Mab in an insurrectionary attitude, proposed escorting her to school, as she was already late, an offer immediately accepted, with the ulterior view of inducing him to take her round the town, and to a particular chocolateshop. Though most bureaucratic matters are well and regularly ordered in imperial Germany, occasional variations occur, and erratic letters which should have been delivered in the morning, appear at an hour when they are not expected. Grace was busy writing to Jimmy Byrne, and Mrs. Frere was doing some nondescript, useless crochet-work, in an intermittent way, " 'wondering" and "supposing" at intervals, in a way that indicated the nervous expectancy of her thoughts, when Mab returned from school. "I never, never knew Maurice so unkind!" she exclaimed, with a pout; "he made me go just straight to school. And I was late, after all, so I had to wait an hour in the garden. But Thérèse von Bistram was there, too, and a beautiful heap of sand and gravel; so we built a fort, and scattered a good deal about. And the Hausmann, he was in a rage!" "What is that in your hand, Mab?" asked Grace. "Oh! it is a letter; the postman gave it to me on the stair. I think it is for you, Grace." "MY DEAR NIECE," ran the epistle, Lady Elton. Her attendants telegraphed has left considerable property. I offer you my best congratulations on your good fortune, and sincerely hope that the responsibility of wealth may bring prudence in its use. Let me know if I shall engage rooms for you at the Langham. With best remembrances to Mrs. Frere, who will, of course, accompany you to London, "I am yours very truly, "MISS FRERE, "RICHARD FRERE. Zittau, Saxony." Grace ceased reading, and was quite silent, as if stunned or awed. But Mrs. Frere, with an hysterical sob, threw her arms round her. 66 My own darling, you will have your proper position, in spite of them all! But I wish she had not forgotten Randal." pretty little things hanging to it? And we are to go to London! I shall sit in the balcony all day long." "Grace, dear," said Mrs. Frere, “you do not seem rejoiced you are trembling." Grace was silent. "It is most wonderful. I did think she might have left you a legacy, but everything!—it takes away my breath! And, you see, your uncle talks of the responsibility of wealth. If he talks of wealth, what a quantity of money she must have left! I trust heaven will direct you in the disposal of it." Max the last farthing, and return dear "Oh, how delicious it will be to pay Jimmy's loan, and make him happy and her surprise and awe to the glorious realcomfortable!" cried Grace, waking out of ity of heirship. "And Randal might leave that priggish Sir Alexander Atwell, and travel on his own account-perhaps with a secretary of his own," added Mrs. Frere. for Mab; it would be such a comfort. "We may have a resident governess, too, And, Grace, dear, how soon do you think we can be ready to leave Zittau?" "Ah, I shall be sorry to leave dear Zittau. has been, and every one is so kind! And My own love, I do not wonder at news," said Mrs. Frere sympathetically. your feeling upset by such overwhelming "I will get you a glass of wine, and then we must see what is to be done. First, we must have a little fresh mourning; and there is no such thing as crape to be had here." "I will come back directly, mother," returned Grace, rising. “I feel as if I' must be quite quiet for a few minutes," and she left the room, unable either to suppress or explain the real source of her agitation. How would Maurice Balfour take these strange tidings? Would he fly from her? Would he seek her? She dreaded the "Dear mother, it is more than I can effect they might produce on her fatebelieve," said Grace, in a subdued tone. her happiness. But this passed over. It "All to me! Ah, she loved me well. If is not possible to buoyant youth to dis. I could but have seen her once more!" trust itself and high fortune; and soon "Why, Grace!" cried Mab, who had Grace rose above the first tremulous fears been an unheeded listener, "are you to and doubts induced by her uncle's starthave everything? that beautiful draw-ling letter, and soared into the regions ing-room, and Luigi, and the gold châte- of bright anticipations and imaginative laine that Lady Elton wore, with all the schemes. "Wun At this point of her meditations, a sud- "Man kann's nicht glauben!" den clatter and hubbub of voices from the derbar!" "Es geht mir an's Herz ! adjoining salon told her that the Dalbers-"Sollst dich freuen!" dorf party had arrived, even had Mab not burst into the room to announce that Uncle Costello and Cousin Alvsleben, Gertrud and Frieda, were all there. Grace saw directly on entering that the great news had not yet been communicated. Mrs. Frere was sitting on the sofa, Frau Alvsleben beside her, holding one hand, while the count had drawn a chair in front of her, and taken the other; Gertrud and Frieda standing a little back, their handkerchiefs at their eyes. Count Costello looked truly and unaffectedly grieved. "Du lieber Himmel!" Frau Alvsleben was saying, "what a misfortune! The dear and gracious lady!" "She was so pleased with our home and life," sighed Gertrud. "Well!" said Frau Alvsleben at length, pocketing her handkerchief, "what is next to be done? We cannot hope to keep you in our little Zittau." Alas, no!" cried Frieda; "your gain is our loss." "What shall we do without you?" cried Gertrud, a sort of joyous warmth in her voice not often to be perceived in its tones. 'Oh, you must come and see us!" exclaimed Mrs. Frere, with affectionate earnestness. "I am sure it will give Grace the greatest delight to welcome such kind relatives and friends, as you have proved yourselves, to her house. Ah! and dear Cousin Alvsleben, such a house! full of the most lovely objects of art, pictures, china - everything you can think of! Indeed, it is very kind of my brother-in-law to be so friendly and help Grace instead of his son. It would have "Never to see her more," said Frieda. "A cruel loss," put in the count. "Irreparable," returned Mrs. Frere, re-ful, when all these valuables are to go to leasing her hand from Frau Alvsleben to press her handkerchief to her eyes. "And to know how she loved my Grace, and thought of her. We have but just now received the announcement from my brother-in-law, Mr. Frere, that she has bequeathed the whole of her large fortune to my dear child!" Grace felt strangely ashamed at this pompous declaration. A sort of dread lest her mother was unwisely exaggerating made her lower her eyes as she advanced, saying, — "We do not know if it is really very large, dear mother." But the thunderbolt had fallen and the German cousins were in a flutter of excitement. "Potztausend!" cried the count; "she deserves every thaler of it." "Gott in Himmel!" screamed Frau Alvsleben, after a pause of astonishment to take in the immense idea. "All, didst thou say, best of cousins?" she added, her high tones slightly tempered with awe. Why, Gracechen, thou art a millionaire a princess of wealth!" "And what will Wolff and Rudolph say?" continued Frieda and Gertrud. My child, God bless you and help you, and send you a wise, kind partner to share your life," said the good old count. And Grace, inexpressibly touched by his tone, threw her arms round his neck, and wept silently on his shoulder; Cousin Alvsleben, Frieda and Gertrud using their handkerchiefs freely, and ejaculating : "Perhaps he may marry and keep all the beautiful things still!" said Frau Alvsleben, with a significant look at Grace. "It was this Mr. Max Frere who was coming to pay you a visit, nicht wahr?" "Oh! you are quite mistaken — nothing of the kind," returned Mrs. Frere, interrupting her kinswoman's look with the most frank unconcern. "Max was like a son and a brother in our house." "Nevertheless this great inheritance will make a difference in his views and wishes; though no doubt you will now expect a nobleman for Grace." "Who, I suppose, is to have no choice in the matter," put in the young lady herself, with a slight smile, though her face was still sad. She had drawn a chair be. side the count, and passing her arm through his, leaned her head against his shoulder, her attitude and aspect more suggestive of despondency than the exultation natural to a newly-made heiress. "Tell me, then, my best of cousins," resumed Frau Alvsleben, "how rich was our dear, lost friend? How many thousand thalers had she? I never know your pounds and shillings." "I do not know myself, but I suppose she must have had at least forty or fifty thousand pounds, to live as she did. How much is that in thalers, Uncle Costello?" |