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Read over to the deponent, and signed by her in the presence of WilliamBurton, J. P.

  2nd August, 1857.

  4. _Statement of Leopoldo._

  N.B.--This statement was obtained with some difficulty, and only on anexpress promise of immunity from any legal proceeding, in respect ofthe deponent's relations with the girl Rosalie, _alias_ Angelina FitzEustace, _alias_ the "Little Wonder," _alias_ Charlotte Brown. Thestatement was enclosed in the following note:

  "Signor Leopoldo, tragedian, &c., &c., &c., presents his compliments toR. Henderson, Esq., and in consideration of the assurance that 'what isdone cannot be now amended,' I have the honour to forward the requiredinformation, in confidence that you will not keep the word of promiseto the ear and break it to the hope, and thus 'my simple truth shall beabused.'"Sir, your most humble servant,(Signed) "THOMAS ROGERS."

  Deposition of Signor Leopoldo, Tragedian; Professor of Fencing andElocution; Equestrian, Gymnastic, and Funambulistic Artiste; SoleProprietor and Manager of the Great Olympian Circus, &c., &c., &c.

  "I, Signor Leopoldo, Tragedian, &c., &c., &c., do hereby deposeand declare that the girl, Charlotte Brown, commonly known as thecelebrated 'Little Wonder,' was transferred by me to my celebratedOlympian Company in the month of July, 1837, at Lewes, in the countyof Sussex, where the celebrated Olympian Circus was at that timeperforming with great success and crowded houses. And this deponentfurther maketh oath and saith that I, the said Signor Leopoldo,tragedian, &c., &c., &c., did in consideration of the services of thesaid Charlotte Brown, commonly known as the celebrated Little Wonder,pay to a certain person or persons claiming to be the parent or parentsof the said Charlotte Brown, commonly known as the celebrated LittleWonder, the sum of five pounds (5_l_.), which person or persons were ofthe tribe or tribes commonly known as gipsies or Egyptians. And thisdeponent furthermore maketh oath and saith that I, Signor Leopoldo,tragedian, &e., &c., &c., cannot tell whether the said Charlotte Brown,commonly known as the Little Wonder was really the child of the personor persons, gipsy or gipsies aforesaid, or that her name was CharlotteBrown, or any other of the particulars hereinbefore stated and deposed,but only that her linen was marked C. B., which initials do set forthand represent the name of Charlotte Brown.

  "Witness our hand and seal this 4th day of January, in the year ofgrace, one thousand eight hundred and fifty-eight.(Signed) "THOMAS ROGERS."

  5. _Statement of Edward Morris, Cleric in the Will Office, Doctors'Commons._

  "My name is Edward Morris. I am a clerk in the Will Office at Doctors'Commons, and my duty is to assist those who wish to search willsdeposited in our office. On the 14th October, 1854, Baron R** cameto the office and searched in several wills. One was the will of aMr. Wilson, copy of which is herewith enclosed. I remember this willparticularly, because I had an altercation with the Baron respectinghis wish to copy parts of it. He wished to make extracts, and I toldhim it was not allowed; only the date and the names of the executors.He persisted, and I said I must report it. He then laughed and saidit did not matter, and he tapped his forehead and said he could makea note of it there. He read parts of the will over two or three timesand gave it back to me. He then said, 'You shall see, my friend,' andlaughed again, and he made me follow him while he repeated severalpages of the will by rote. He laughed again when he had done, andasked if he might copy it now. I said no; and he laughed again, andwrote for some time in his note-book, looking up at me every now andthen and laughing. I was angry, partly because he laughed, and partlybecause he kept me there when I wanted to get away. I had leave for aweek to go to the Isle of Wight and see my aunt. I wanted to get therethat night because the next day was my birthday. He made me miss thetrain, and as the next day was Sunday, I did not get there till late.That is how I remember the date. I am sure of the year because my auntonly went to the Isle of Wight the November previously, and died in thespring of 1855. I am quite sure it was the Baron. I should recognisehim anywhere. He is a short, stout man, with a rather florid complexionand reddish hair, rather light. He has large fat hands, white and wellkept, and an immense head. He dresses all in black, and wears largespectacles of light blue. I don't think it is because his eyes areweak. I am sure it is not; for when he takes off his spectacles I neversaw such extraordinary eyes. I can't describe them, only that they arevery large and bright. I never could look at them long enough to makeout the colour, but they are very dark, I think black, and they putone out to look at them, otherwise there is nothing very remarkableabout him. I recognised him that day from having seen him before at amesmeric lecture, when I asked his name."

  6. _Memorandum by Mr. Henderson._

  I enclose the will of which the following is an abstract:

  "Mr. Wilson, of the firm of Price & Wilson, Calcutta, who died in 1825,leaves the sum of 25,375_l_. three per cent. consols, to his niece,Gertrude Wilson (afterwards Lady Boleton), and to her children, ifany, or their heirs in regular succession, whether male or female.In default of any such heirs, the money to be made over to trusteesselected by the Governor General of India for the time being, fromamong the leading merchants of Calcutta, for the purpose of founding,under certain restrictions, an institution among the hills for thechildren of those who could not afford to send them home to England."

  The will also provides that should any female taking under it dieduring her coverture, the husband shall retain a life interest in theproperty.

  [Footnote 1: The late Miss Boleton.]

  [Footnote 2: Section I. No.12.]

  [Footnote 3: An extract from the magazine here quoted will be givenlater on in the case.]

  [Footnote 4: The difficulty of tracing this witness, from the slightclue afforded by Mr. Morton's statement, occasioned considerable delay.]

  SECTION III.

  1.--_Extracts from Mrs. Anderton's Journal._

  _Aug._ 13, 1854.--Here we are, then, finally established at NottingHill. Jane laughs at us for coming to town just as every one else isleaving it; but in my eyes, and I am sure in dear William's too, thatis the pleasantest time for us. Poor Willie, he grows more and moresensitive to blame from any one, and has been sadly worried by thisdiscussion about our Dresden trip. The new professor to-morrow. Iwonder what he will be like.

  _Aug._ 14.--And so _that_ is the new professor! I do not think I wasever so astonished in my life. That little stout squab man, the mostpowerful mesmerist in Europe! And yet he certainly is powerful, for hehad scarcely made a pass over me before I felt a glow through my wholeframe. There is something about him, too, when one comes to look athim more closely, which puzzles me very much. He certainly is not thecommon-place man he appears, though it would be difficult just now tosay what makes me so sure of it.

  _Aug._ 25.--Quite satisfied now. How could I have ever thought theBaron common-place! And yet, at first sight, his appearance iscertainly against him. He is not a man with whom I should like toquarrel. I don't think he would have much compunction in killing anyone who offended him, or who stood in his way. How quietly he talks ofthose horrid experiments in the medical schools, and the tortures theyinflict on the poor hospital patients. Willie says it is all nonsense,and says all doctors talk so; but I can't help feeling that there issomething different about him. And yet he is certainly doing me good.

  _Sept._ 1.--Better and better, and yet I cannot conquer the strangefeeling which is growing upon me about the Baron. He is certainly anextraordinary man. What a grasp he takes of anything on which he restshis hand even for a moment; and how perfectly he seems to disregardanything that stands in his way. This morning I was at the window whenhe came, and I was quite frightened when I saw him, as I thought, sonearly run over. But I might have spared my anxiety, for my gentlemanjust walked quietly on, while the poor horse started almost across theroad. Had it caught sight of those wonderful green eyes of his, that itseemed so frightened? What eyes they are! You can hardly ever see them;but when you do!--And yet the man is certainly doing me good.

  _Sept._ 11.--So it is settled that the Baron is not to
mesmerise mehimself any more. Am I sorry or glad? At all events, I hope they willnot now worry poor William....

  _Sept._ 13.--First day of Mademoiselle Rosalie. Seems a nice personenough; but it feels very odd to lie there on the sofa while some oneelse is being mesmerised for one.

  _Sept._ 15.--This new plan is beginning to answer. I think I feel themesmerism even more than when I was mesmerised myself, and this wayone gets all the pleasures and none of the disagreeables. It _is_ sodelicious. Looked back to-day at my Malvern journals. So odd to see howI disliked the idea at first, and now I could hardly live without it.

  _Sept._ 29.--I think we shall soon be able to do without the Baronaltogether. I am sure Rosalie and I could manage very well byourselves. What a wonderful thing this mesmerism is! To think thatthe mere touch of another person's hand should soothe away pain, andfill one with health and strength. Really, if I had not always kepta journal, I should feel bound to keep one now, as a record of thewonderful effects of this extraordinary cure. Got up this morningwith a nasty headache. No appetite for breakfast. Eyes heavy, andpulse low. Poor William in terrible tribulation, when lo! in comeslittle Mademoiselle Rosalie and the Baron. The gentleman makes a passor two--the lady pops her little, dry, monkey-looking paw upon myforehead, and, _presto_! the headache has vanished, and I'm calling forchocolate and toast!

  _Sept._ 30.--A blank day. Headache again this morning, and looking outanxiously for my little brown "good angel," when in comes the Baron,with the news that she cannot come. Up all night with a dying lady, andso fagged this morning that he is afraid she would do me more harm thangood. I am sure she cannot feel more fagged than I do, poor girl. But,after all, in spite of the delight of doing so much good, what a lifeit must be!

  _Oct._ 1.--Rosalie here again. Headache vanished. Everything bright asthe October sun outside. I am getting quite fond of that girl. How Iwish she could speak something besides German....

  _Oct._ 4.--It is quite extraordinary what a hold that poor girl,Rosalie, is taking upon me. I am even beginning to dream of her atnight....

  _Oct._ 6.--Headache again this morning, and a message that Rosaliecannot come. How provoking that it is on the same day....

  _Oct._ 12.--I think I shall really soon begin to know when poor Rosaliehas been over-worked. Headache again to-day, and I had a presentimentthat she would not be able to come....

  _Oct._ 20.[1]--So now the Baron is going to leave us. Well, I am indeedthankful that he can now so well be spared. Jane Morgan here to-day,and of course laughing at the idea of mesmerism doing any good. Shecould not deny, though, how wonderfully better I am, and indeed, butfor those tiresome headaches, which always seem to come just when poorRosalie is too tired to take them away, I am really quite well andstrong.

  _Oct._ 31.--Something evidently wrong between poor Rosalie and theBaron. She has evidently been crying, and I suppose it must be fromsympathy, but I feel exactly as if I had been crying too. Very littlesatisfaction from the mesmerism to-day. It seems rather as if it hadgiven me some of poor Rosalie's depression. How I wish she could speakEnglish, or that I could speak German, and then I would find out whatis the matter. Perhaps she is to lose her work when the Baron goes.Mem.: To ask him to-morrow.

  _Nov._ 1.--No. He says he shall certainly take her with him to Germany,and "he hopes that may have a beneficial effect." What can he mean? Hesays she is quite well, but throws out mysterious insinuations as tosomething being wrong with her. How I do wish I could speak German.

  _Nov._ 3.--Still that uncomfortableness between the Baron and Rosalie.I am sure there is something wrong, and that she wants to speak to meabout it, but is afraid of him. It certainly is strange that he shouldnever leave us alone. Mem.: To ask William to get him out of the wayfor a little while to-morrow, though what good that will be when sheand I cannot understand each other, I hardly know after all....

  _Nov._ 4.--What a day this has been! I feel quite tired out with theexcitement, and yet I cannot make up my mind to go to bed until I havewritten it all down. In the first place, this is to be my last visitfrom Rosalie, at all events till they come back from the continent.I cannot help perceiving that William is not altogether sorry thatshe is going. Dear fellow! I do really believe that he is more thanhalf jealous of my extraordinary feeling for her. And certainly it isextraordinary that a woman quite in another class of life, of whomone knows nothing, should have taken such a hold upon one. I supposeit must be the mesmerism, which certainly is a very mysterious thing.If it is so, it is at all events very fortunate it did not take thatturn with the Baron himself. Ugh! I can really begin to understand nowall the objections I thought so foolish and so tiresome three or fourmonths ago, before Rosalie first came. And yet, after all, I don'tthink--in spite of mesmerism or anything else--one need ever have beenafraid of liking the Baron too much. I could quite understand beingafraid of him. Rosalie evidently is, and to own the truth so am I alittle, or I should not have been beaten in that way to-day. To-daywas my last _seance_ with Rosalie, and I had made up my mind to getthe Baron out of the way, and try and get something out of Rosalie.They came at two o'clock as usual, and as I thought I would not lose achance, I had got dear William to lie in wait in his study, and callto the Baron as he passed, in hopes that Rosalie would come up alone.That was no use, however, for the Baron kept his stout little selfperseveringly between her and the staircase, and when I went--thinkingto be very clever--to the top of the staircase and called to herto come up, it only gave him an excuse for breaking away from poorWilliam altogether, and coming straight up to me before her. I _was_so provoked, I could hardly be civil. Well, of course the Baron was ina great hurry, and we went to work at once with the mesmerising. Whenthat was done, we both tried to keep them talking, and I made signs toWilliam to get the Baron out of the way. I was really beginning to getquite anxious about it, and kept on repeating over and over to myselfthe two German words I had learned on purpose from Jane Morgan thismorning. It was no use, however, and I began to grow quite nervous;and I am quite sure Rosalie saw what I was wanting, for she seemed toget fidgety too, and then that made me more nervous still. At last theBaron declared he must go, and they both got up to leave. William wouldhave given it up, but he says I looked so imploringly at him he couldnot resist, so made one more effort by asking the Baron to come intohis study for a short private consultation. This he refused, sayinghe had not time, but could say anything needful where we were. ThenWilliam told me to take Rosalie into the next room, but the Baron wouldnot have that either, though he laughed when he said he could not trustto a lady's punctuality in this case, but if I would leave Rosalie shewould not understand anything that was said. Of course this would notdo, and at last William, with more presence of mind and determinationthan I should have thought him capable of, took him by the buttonholeand fairly drew him away into the further window, where he beganwhispering eagerly to him to draw off his attention. I suppose it wasthe consciousness of a sort of stratagem, but my heart beat quite fastas I brought out my two words, "_Gibst' was?_" and I could see thathers was so too. She seemed surprised at my speaking to her in German,and certainly I was no less so to hear her answer in English, witha slight accent certainly, but still in quite plain English--"Don'tseem to listen. I am ..." and then she stopped suddenly and turnedquite pale, and I could feel all my own blood rush back to my heartwith such a throb! I looked up, and there were the Baron's eyes fixedupon us. Poor Rosalie seemed quite frightened, and I declare I feltso too. At all events, we neither of us ventured on another word, andthe next minute the Baron succeeded in fairly shaking off poor Williamand taking his leave. So there is an end of my little romance aboutRosalie. I am _sure_ there was something in it. Why, if she had nothingparticular to say, should she have taken the trouble of learning thatlittle bit of English? and why--but I must not sit here all nightspeculating about this, which after all is, I daresay, nothing at all.It is positively just twelve o'clock.

  _Nov._ 6.--How strange! There is certainly some mystery about Rosalieand the Bar
on. I am quite certain I saw them in a cab together thismorning, and yet they were to cross on Saturday night and be in Parisyesterday. I wonder whether they were late after all, and yet an hourand a-half is surely time enough to London Bridge, and if he had missedthe train I should think he would have come to us yesterday. At allevents he might have gone early this morning. It is very odd....

  _Nov._ 7.--I wonder whether any one ever had such a husband as I havegot. Yesterday he must needs worry himself with the idea that I amfretting about the loss of my mesmerism,--as if I could possibly thinka moment about the loss of anything when I had got him with me. Sonothing would satisfy him but that we must go to the Haymarket to see"Paul Pry" and the Spanish Dancers. I have not laughed so much for manya long day. I don't like all that violent dancing, so we came awaydirectly after the absurd little farce--"How to Pay the Rent." How wedid laugh at it to be sure, and the absurdities of that little monkey,Clark. Wright, too, in "Paul Pry," is quite inimitable. Dear William,how good it was of him!....

  _Dec._ 5.--Just going to the theatre again when news came of poor HarryMorton's illness. My own dear William, how good he is to every one. Andso prompt, too. Touch his heart or his honour, and the Duke himselfcould not be more quick and decided. The news only came as we weredressing, and to-morrow we are off to Naples to meet poor Mr. Morton,and nurse him.

  _Dec._ 6.--There is no one like Willie. After all the scramble we havehad to get ready, he would not take me across when it was so rough. Sowe have taken two dear little rooms, from day to day, because Williecannot bear the publicity of an hotel, and I am sure I hate it too, andwe are to wait till it is fine enough to cross.