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Even Miss Blandy's robust affection was not, for the moment, able to overlook a treachery so base. She locked the trunk, put the key in her pocket, and at the first opportunity handed it to Cranstoun, with the remark that he should in future be more careful of his private correspondence. A disgusting scene ensued. For two hours the wretched little captain wept and raved, imploring her forgiveness.
I never stepped more naturally and carelessly into the saloon. It was full of men. There were men behind the bar helping themselves. Evidently Blandy's place had not been filled. Every face near the door was turned toward me; dark, intent, scowling, malignant they were, and made me need my nerve. "Say, boys, I've a word for Snecker," I called, quite loud. Nobody stirred.
In 1862 we hired rowing and sailing boats to visit the southern coast east and west of Funchal. For the last twelvemonth Mr. Blandy's steam-tug Falcao has carried travellers to and fro: it is a great convenience to the lazy sightseer, who cares only to view the outside of things, and here the outsides are the only things worth viewing.
That evening Susan was told to warm some of the gruel for her master's supper; she did so, and Mary herself carried it to him in the parlour. On going upstairs to bed, he was repeatedly sick, and called to Susan to bring him a basin. Next morning, Wednesday, the 7th, Betty Binfield brought down from the bedroom the remains of Mr. Blandy's supper.
Blandy's temper very much soured against me, I thought it necessary to hasten my Project to a Conclusion.
Blandy's in June last, in the time of hay harvest; that she was then taken sick, was seized in the night-time with a vomiting and purging, and this witness went in the morning to the prisoner, by her mother's desire, and acquainted her with the condition she was in; that the prisoner said she was sorry, and would send her something to drink, which she did in about an hour or two afterwards.
The lungs were covered in every part with black spots. The kidneys, spleen and heart were likewise greatly spotted; there was found no water in the pericardium. In short, we never beheld a body in which the viscera were so universally inflamed and mortified. It is our real opinion, that the cause of Mr. Blandy's death was poison.
It was to me, and nobody else. Have you heard her abuse him with bad language? I have heard her curse him, call him rascal and villain. What was she so angry with her father about? Mr. Cranstoun was at our house about three-quarters of a year before Mr. Blandy's death. He came in August, 1750, and stayed there till near Christmas. It was not agreeable to my master.
"Many cartloads of our fellow-creatures are once in six weeks carried to slaughter," says Henry Fielding, in his Enquiry ; and well has Mr. Whibley described the period as "Newgate's golden age." As for Tyburn Tree, we read in its Annals, for example, "1752. July 13. Eleven executed at Tyburn." We can only glance at one or two further instances of the diffusion of "Blandy's fatal fame."
She behaved, according to what I always observed, as well to her father and the family as anybody could do, an affectionate, dutiful daughter. Did you see her during the time of Mr. Blandy's illness? I did. The first time I went into the room she was not able to speak to me nor I to her for ten minutes. What was that owing to? It was owing to the greatness of her grief. When was this?
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