At the Mercy of Tiberius / Evans, Augusta J. (Augusta Jane), 1835-1909

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Title: At the Mercy of Tiberius

Author: Augusta Evans Wilson

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AT THE MERCY OF TIBERIUS

A NOVEL

By AUGUSTA EVANS WILSON

Author of "A Speckled Bird," "Infelice," "Vashti," "Beulah," "St.
Elmo," etc.




     Fate steals along with silent tread,
     Found oftenest in what least we dread;
     Frowns in the storm with angry brow,
     But in the sunshine strikes the blow.
                               --COWPER.




IN MEMORY OF MY MOTHER, WHO HAS ENTERED INTO REST.






AT THE MERCY OF TIBERIUS

CHAPTER I.


"You are obstinate and ungrateful. You would rather see me suffer
and die, than bend your stubborn pride in the effort to obtain
relief for me. You will not try to save me."

The thin, hysterically unsteady voice ended in a sob, and the frail
wasted form of the speaker leaned forward, as if the issue of life
or death hung upon an answer.

The tower clock of a neighboring church began to strike the hour of
noon, and not until the echo of the last stroke had died away, was
there a reply to the appeal.

"Mother, try to be just to me. My pride is for you, not for myself.
I shrink from seeing my mother crawl to the feet of a man, who has
disowned and spurned her; I cannot consent that she should humbly
beg for rights, so unnaturally withheld. Every instinct of my nature
revolts from the step you require of me, and I feel as if you held a
hot iron in your hand, waiting to brand me."

"Your proud sensitiveness runs in a strange groove, and it seems you
would prefer to see me a pauper in a Hospital, rather than go to
your grandfather and ask for help. Beryl, time presses, and if I die
for want of aid, you will be responsible; when it is too late, you
will reproach yourself. If I only knew where and how to reach my
dear boy, I should not importune you. Bertie would not refuse
obedience to say wishes."

The silence which followed was so prolonged that a mouse crept from
its covert in some corner of the comfortless garret room, and
nibbled at the fragments of bread scattered on the table.

Beryl stood at the dormer window, holding aside the faded blue
cotton curtain, and the mid-day glare falling upon her, showed every
curve of her tall full form; every line in the calm, pale Sibylline
face. The large steel gray eyes were shaded by drooping lids,
heavily fringed with black lashes, but when raised in a steady gaze
the pupils appeared abnormally dilated; and the delicately traced
black brows that overarched them, contrasted conspicuously with the
wealth of deep auburn hair darkened by mahogany tints, which rolled
back in shining waves from her blue veined temples. While moulding
the figure and features upon a scale almost heroic, nature had
jealously guarded the symmetry of her work, and in addition to the
perfect proportion of the statuesque outlines, had bestowed upon the
firm white flesh a gleaming smoothness, suggestive of fine grained
marble highly polished. Majesty of mien implies much, which the
comparatively short period of eighteen years rarely confers, yet
majestic most properly describes this girl, whose archetype Veleda
read runic myths to the Bructeri in the twilight of history.

Beryl crossed the room, and with her hands folded tightly together,
came to the low bed, on which lay the wreck of a once beautiful
woman, and stood for a moment silent and pre-occupied. With a sudden
gesture of surrender, she stooped her noble head, as if assuming a
yoke, and drew one long deep breath. Did some prophetic intuition
show her at that instant the Phicean Hill and its dread tenant,
which sooner or later we must all confront?

"Dear mother, I submit. Obedience to your commands certainly ought
not to lead me astray; yet I feel that I stand at the cross-roads,
longing to turn and flee from the way whither your finger points. I
have no hope of accomplishing any good, and nothing but humiliation
can result from the experiment; but I will go. Sometimes I believe;
that fate maliciously hunts up the things we most bitterly abhor,
and one by one sets them down before us--labelled Duty. When do you
wish me to start?"

"To-night, at nine o'clock. In the letter which you will take to
father, I have told him our destitution; and that the money spent
for your railway ticket has been obtained by the sacrifice of the
diamonds and pearls, that were set around my mother's picture; that
cameo, which he had cut in Rome and framed in Paris. Beryl so much
depends on the impression you make upon him, that you must guard
your manner against haughtiness. Try to be patient, my daughter, and
if he should seem harsh, do not resent his words. He is old now, and
proud and bitter, but he once had a tender love for me. I was his
idol, and when my child pleads, he will relent."

Mrs. Brentano laid her thin hot fingers on her daughter's hands,
drawing her down to the edge of the bed; and Beryl saw she was
quivering with nervous excitement.

"Compose yourself, mother, or you will be so ill that I cannot leave
you. Dr. Grantlin impressed upon us, the necessity of keeping your
nervous system quiet. Take your medicine now, and try to sleep until
I come back from Stephen & Endicott's."

"Do not go to-day."

"I must. Those porcelain types were promised for a certain day, and
they should be packed in time for the afternoon express going to
Boston."

"Beryl."

"Well, mother?"

"Come nearer to me. Give me your hand. My heart is so oppressed by
dread, that I want you to promise me something, which I fancy will
lighten my burden. Life is very uncertain, and if I should die, what
would become of my Bertie? Oh, my boy! my darling, my first born! He
is so impulsive, so headstrong; and no one but his mother could ever
excuse or forgive his waywardness. Although younger, you are in some
respects, the strongest; and I want your promise that you will
always be patient and tender with him, and that you will shield him
from evil, as I have tried to do. His conscience of course, is not
sensitive like yours--because you know, a boy's moral nature is
totally different from a girl's; and like most of his sex, Bertie
has no religious instincts bending him always in the right
direction. Women  generally have to supply conscientious scruples
for men, and you can take care of your brother, if you will. You are
unusually brave and strong, Beryl, and when I am gone, you must
stand between him and trouble. My good little girl, will you?"

The large luminous eyes that rested upon the flushed face of the
invalid, filled with a mist of yearning compassionate tenderness,
and taking her mother's hands, Beryl laid the palms together, then
stooping nearer, kissed her softly.

"I think I have never lacked love for Bertie, though I may not
always have given expression to my feelings. If at times I have
deplored his reckless waywardness, and expostulated with him,
genuine affection prompted me; but I promise you now, that I will do
all a sister possibly can for a brother. Trust me, mother; and rest
in the assurance that his welfare shall be more to me than my own;
that should the necessity arise, I will stand between him and
trouble. Banish all depressing forebodings. When you are strong and
well, and when I paint my great picture, we will buy a pretty
cottage among the lilacs and roses, where birds sing all day long,
where cattle pasture in clover nooks; and then Bertie, your darling,
shall never leave you again."

"I do trust you, for your promise means more than oath and vows from
other people, and if occasion demand, I know you will guard my
Bertie, my high-strung, passionate, beautiful boy! Your pretty
cottage? Ah, child! when shall we dwell in Spain?"

"Some day, some day; only be hopeful, and let me find you better
when I return. Sleep, and dream of our pretty cottage. I must hurry
away with my pictures, for this is pay day."

Tying the strings of her hat under one ear, and covering her face
with a blue veil, Beryl took a pasteboard box from a table, on which
lay brushes and paints, and leaving the door a-jar, went down the
narrow stairs.

At the window of a small hall on the next floor, a woman sat before
her sewing-machine, bending so close to her work that she did not
see the tall form, which paused before her, until a hand was laid on
the steel plate.

"Mrs. Emmet, will you please be so good as to go up after a while,
and see if mother needs anything?"

"Certainly, Miss, if I am here, but I have some sewing to carry home
this afternoon."

"I shall not be absent more than two hours. To-night I am going
South, to attend to some business; and mother tells me you have
promised to wait upon her, and allow your daughter Maggie to sleep
on a pallet by her bed, while I am gone. I cannot tell you how
grateful I shall be for any kindness you may show her, and I wish
you would send the baby often to her room, as he is so sweet and
cunning, and his merry ways amuse her."

"Yes, I will do all I can. We poor folks who have none of this
world's goods, ought to be rich at least in sympathy and pity for
each other's suffering, for it is about all we have to share. Don't
you worry and fret, for I will see your ma has what she needs. I was
mothered by the best woman God ever made, and since she died, every
sick mother I see has a sort of claim on my heart."

Pausing an instant to adjust the tucker of her machine, Mrs. Emmet
looked up, and involuntarily the women shook hands, as if sealing a
compact.

It was a long walk to the building whither Beryl directed her steps,
and as she passed through the rear entrance of a large and
fashionable photograph establishment, she was surprised to find that
it was half-past two o'clock.

The Superintendent of the department, from whom she received her
work, was a man of middle-age, of rather stern and forbidding
aspect; and as she approached his desk, he pointed to the clock on
the mantel-piece.

"Barely time to submit those types for inspection, and have them
packed for the express going East. They are birthday gifts, and
birthdays have an awkward habit of arriving rigidly on time."

He unrolled the tissue paper, and with a magnifying glass, carefully
examined the pictures; then took from an envelope in the box, two
short pieces of hair, which he compared with the painted heads
before him.

"Beautifully done. The lace on that child's dress would bear even a
stronger lens than my glass. Here Patterson, take this box, and
letter to Mr. Endicott, and if satisfactory, carry them to the
packing counter. Shipping address is in the letter. Hurry up, my
lad. Sit down, Miss Brentano."

"Thank you, I am not tired. Mr. Mansfield, have you any good news
for me?"

"You mean those etchings; or the designs for the Christmas cards?
Have not heard a word, pro or con. Guess no news is good news; for I
notice 'rejected' work generally travels fast, to roost at home."

"I thought the awards were made last week, and that to-day you could
tell me the result."

"The awards have been made, I presume, but who owns the lucky cards
is the secret that has not yet transpired. You young people have no
respect for red tape, and methodical business routine.  You want to
clap spurs on fate, and make her lower her own last record? 'Bide
awee. Bide awee'."

"Winning this prize means so much to me, that I confess I find it
very hard to be patient. Success would save me from a painful and
expensive journey, upon which I must start to-night; and therefore I
hoped so earnestly that I might receive good tidings to-day. I am
obliged to go South on an errand, which will necessitate an absence
of several days, and if you should have any news for me, keep it
until I call again. If unfavorable it would depress my mother, and
therefore I prefer you should not write, as of course she will open
any letters addressed to me. Please save all the work you can for
me, and I will come here as soon as I get back home."

"Very well. Any message, Patterson?"

"Mr. Endicott said, 'All right; first-rate;' and ordered them
shipped."

"Here is your money, Miss Brentano. Better call as early as you can,
as I guess there will be a lot of photographs ready in a few days.
Good afternoon."

"Thank you. Good-bye, sir."

From the handful of small change, she selected some pennies which
she slipped inside of her glove, and dropping the remainder into her
pocket, left the building, and walked on toward Union Square.
Absorbed in grave reflections, and oppressed by some vague
foreboding of impending ill, dim, intangible and unlocalized--she
moved slowly along the crowded sidewalk--unconscious of the curious
glances directed toward her superb form, and stately graceful
carriage, which more than one person turned and looked back to
admire, wondering when she had stepped down from some sacred
Panathenaic Frieze.

Near Madison Square, she paused before the window of a florist's,
and raising her veil, gazed longingly at the glowing mass of
blossoms, which Nineteenth Century skill and wealth in defiance of
isothermal lines, and climatic limitations force into perfection,
in, and out of season. The violet eyes and crocus fingers of Spring
smiled and quivered, at sight of the crimson rose heart, and flaming
paeony cheeks of royal Summer; and creamy and purple chrysanthemums
that quill their laces over the russet robes of Autumn, here stared
in indignant amazement, at the premature presumption of snowy regal
camellias, audaciously advancing to crown the icy brows of Winter.
All latitudes, all seasons have become bound vassals to the great
God Gold; and his necromancy furnishes with equal facility the dewy
wreaths of orange flowers that perfume the filmy veils of December
brides--and the blue bells of spicy hyacinths which ring "Rest" over
the lily pillows, set as tribute on the graves of babies, who wilt
under August suns.

From early childhood, an ardent love of beauty had characterized
this girl, whose covetous gaze wandered from a gorgeous scarlet and
gold orchid nodding in dreams of its habitat, in some vanilla
scented Brazilian jungle, to a bed of vivid green moss, where
skilful hands had grouped great drooping sprays of waxen begonias,
coral, faint pink, and ivory, all powdered with gold dust like that
which gilds the heart of water-lilies.

Such treasures were reserved for the family of Dives; and counting
her pennies, Beryl entered the store, where instantaneously the
blended breath of heliotrope, tube-rose and mignonette wafted her
across the ocean, to a white-walled fishing village on the Cornice,
whose gray rocks were kissed by the blue lips of the Mediterranean.

"What is the price of that cluster of Niphetos buds?"

"One dollar."

"And that Auratum--with a few rose geranium leaves added?"

"Seventy-five cents. You see it is wonderfully large, and the gold
bands are so very deep."

She put one hand in her pocket and fingered a silver coin, but
poverty is a grim, tyrannous stepmother to tender aestheticism, and
prudential considerations prevailed.

"Give me twenty-five cents worth of those pale blue double violets,
with a sprig of lemon verbena, and a fringe of geranium leaves."

She laid the money on the counter, and while the florist selected
and bound the blossoms into a bunch, she arrested his finishing
touch.

"Wait a moment. How much more for one Grand Duke jasmine in the
centre?"

"Ten cents, Miss."

She added the dime to the pennies she could ill afford to spare from
her small hoard, and said: "Will you be so kind as to sprinkle it? I
wish it kept fresh, for a sick lady."

Dusky shadows were gathering in the gloomy hall of the old tenement
house, when Beryl opened the door of the comfortless attic room,
where for many months she had struggled bravely to shield her mother
from the wolf, that more than once snarled across the threshold.

Mrs. Brentano was sitting in a low chair, with her elbows on her
knees, her face hidden in her palms; and in her lap lay paper and
pencil, while a sealed letter had fallen on the ground beside her.
At the sound of the opening door, she lifted her head, and tears
dripped upon the paper. In her faded flannel dressing-gown, with
tresses of black hair straggling across her shoulders, she presented
a picture of helpless mental and physical woe, which painted itself
indelibly on the panels of her daughter's heart.

"Why did you not wait until I came home? The exertion of getting up
always fatigues you."

"You staid so long--and I am so uncomfortable in that wretchedly
hard bed. What detained you?"

"I went to see the Doctor, because I am unwilling to start away,
without having asked his advice; and he has prescribed some new
medicine which you will find in this bottle. The directions are
marked on the label. Now I will put things in order, and try my
hands on that refractory bed."

"What did the Doctor say about me?"

"Nothing new; but he is confident that you can be cured in time, if
we will only be patient and obedient. He promised to see you in the
morning."

She stripped the bed of its covering, shook bolster and pillows;
turned over the mattress, and beat it vigorously; then put on fresh
sheets, and adjusted the whole comfortably.

"Now mother, turn your head, and let me comb and brush and braid all
this glossy black satin, to keep it from tangling while I am away.
What a pity you did not dower your daughter with part of it, instead
of this tawny mane of mine, which is a constant affront to my
fastidious artistic instincts. Please keep still a moment."

She unwrapped the tissue paper that covered her flowers, and holding
her hands behind her, stepped in front of the invalid.

"Dear mother, shut your eyes. There--! of what does that remind you?
The pergola--with great amber grape clusters--and white stars of
jasmine shining through the leaves? All the fragrance of Italy
sleeps in the thurible of this Grand-Duke."

"How delicious! Ah, my extravagant child! we cannot afford such
luxuries now. The perfume recalls so vividly the time when Bertie--"

A sob cut short the sentence. Beryl pinned the flowers at her
mother's throat, kissed her cheek, and kneeling before her, crossed
her arms on the invalid's lap, resting there the noble head, with
its burnished crown of reddish bronze braids.

"Mother dear, humor my childish whim. In defiance of my wishes and
judgment, and solely in obedience to your command, I am leaving you
for the first time, on a bitterly painful and humiliating mission.
To-night, let me be indeed your little girl once more. My heart
brings me to your knees, to say my prayers as of yore, and now while
I pray, lay your dear pretty hands on my head. It will seem like a
parting benediction; a veritable Nunc dimmitas."




CHAPTER II.


"I do not want a carriage. If the distance is only a mile and a
half, I can easily walk. After leaving town is there a straight
road?"

"Straight as the crow flies, when you have passed the factory, and
cemetery, and turned to the left. There is a little Branch running
at the foot of the hill, and just across it, you will see the white
palings, and the big gate with stone pillars, and two tremendous
brass dogs on top, showing their teeth and ready to spring. There's
no mistaking the place, because it is the only one left in the
country that looks like the good old times before the war; and the
Yankees would not have spared it, had it not been such comfortable
bombproof headquarters for  their officers. It's our show place now,
and General Darrington keeps it up in better style, than any other
estate I know."

"Thank you. I will find it."

Beryl walked away in the direction indicated, and the agent of the
railway station, leaning against the door of the baggage room,
looked with curious scrutiny after her.

"I should like to know who she is. No ordinary person, that is
clear. Such a grand figure and walk, and such a steady look in her
big solemn eyes, as if she saw straight through a person, clothes,
flesh and all. Wonder what her business can be with the old
general?"

From early childhood Beryl had listened so intently to her mother's
glowing descriptions of the beauty and elegance of her old home "Elm
Bluff," that she soon began to identify the land-marks along the
road, alter passing the cemetery, where so many generations of
Darringtons slept in one corner, enclosed by a lofty iron railing;
exclusive in death as in life; jealously guarded and locked from
contact with the surrounding dwellers in "God's Acre."

The October day had begun quite cool and crisp, with a hint of frost
in its dewy sparkle, but as though vanquished Summer had suddenly
faced about, and charged furiously to cover her retreat, the south
wind came heavily laden with hot vapor from equatorial oceanic
caldrons; and now the afternoon sun, glowing in a cloudless sky,
shed a yellowish glare that burned and tingled like the breath of a
furnace; while along the horizon, a dim dull haze seemed blotting
out the boundary of earth and sky.

A portion of the primeval pine forest having been preserved, the
trees had attained gigantic height, thrusting their plumy heads
heavenward, as their lower limbs died; and year after year the
mellow brown carpet of reddish straw deepened, forming a soft safe
nidus for the seeds that sprang up and now gratefully embroidered it
with masses of golden rod, starry white asters, and tall, feathery
spikes of some velvety purple bloom, which looked royal by the side
of a cluster of belated evening primroses.

Pausing on the small but pretty rustic bridge, Beryl leaned against
the interlacing cedar boughs twisted into a balustrade, and looked
down at the winding stream, where the clear water showed amber hues,
flecked with glinting foam bubbles, as it lapped and gurgled, eddied
and sang, over its bed of yellow gravel. Unacquainted with "piney-
woods' branches," she was charmed by the novel golden brown wavelets
that frothed against the pillars of the bridge, and curled
caressingly about the broad emerald fronds of luxuriant ferns, which
hung Narcissus-like over their own graceful quivering images.
Profound quiet brooded in the warm, hazy air, burdened with balsamic
odors; but once a pine burr full of rich nutty mast crashed down
through dead twigs, bruising the satin petals of a primrose; and
ever and anon the oboe notes of that shy, deep throated hermit of
ravines--the russet, speckled-breasted lark--thrilled through the
woods, like antiphonal echoes in some vast, cool, columned cloister.

The perfect tranquillity of the scene soothed the travel-weary
woman, as though nestling so close to the great heart of nature, had
stilled the fierce throbbing, and banished the gloomy forebodings of
her own; and she walked on, through the iron gate, where the bronze
mastiffs glared warningly from their granite pedestal--on into the
large undulating park, which stretched away to meet the line of
primitive pines. There was no straight avenue, but a broad smooth
carriage road curved gently up a hillside, and on both margins of
the graveled way, ancient elm trees stood at regular intervals,
throwing their boughs across, to unite in lifting the superb groined
arches, whose fine tracery of sinuous lines were here and there
concealed by clustering mistletoe--and gray lichen masses--and
ornamented with bosses of velvet moss; while the venerable columnar
trunks were now and then wreathed with poison-oak vines, where red
trumpet flowers insolently blared defiance to the waxen pearls of
encroaching mistletoe.

On the other side, the grounds were studded with native growth, as
though protective forestry statutes had crossed the ocean with the
colonists, and on this billowy sea of varied foliage Autumn had set
her illuminated autograph, in the vivid scarlet of sumach and black
gum, the delicate lemon of wild cherry--the deep ochre all sprinkled
and splashed with intense crimson, of the giant oaks--the orange
glow of ancestral hickory--and the golden glory of maples, on which
the hectic fever of the dying year kindled gleams of fiery red;--
over all, a gorgeous blazonry of riotous color, toned down by the
silver gray shadows of mossy tree-trunks, and the rich, dark,
restful green of polished magnolias.

Half a dozen fine Cotswold ewes browsed on the grass, and the small
bell worn by a staid dowager tinkled musically, as she threw up her
head and watched suspiciously the figure moving under the elm
arches. Beneath the far reaching branches of a patriarchal cedar, a
small herd of Jersey calves had grouped themselves, as if posing for
Landseer or Rosa Bonheur; and one pretty fawn-colored weanling ran
across the sward to meet the stranger, bleating a welcome and
looking up, with unmistakable curiosity in its velvety, long-lashed
eyes.

As the avenue gradually climbed the ascent, the outlines of the
house became visible; a stately, typical southern mansion, like
hundreds, which formerly opened hospitably their broad mahogany
doors, and which, alas! are becoming traditional to this generation-
-obsolete as the brave chivalric, warm-hearted, open-handed, noble-
souled, refined southern gentlemen who built and owned them. No
Mansard roof here, no pseudo "Queen Anne" hybrid, with lowering,
top-heavy projections like scowling eyebrows over squinting eyes;
neither mongrel Renaissance, nor feeble, sickly, imitation
Elizabethan facades, and Tudor towers; none of the queer, composite,
freakish impertinences of architectural style, which now-a-day do
duty as the adventurous vanguard, the aesthetic vedettes "making
straight the way," for the coming cohorts of Culture.

The house at "Elm Bluff" was built of brick, overcast with stucco
painted in imitation of gray granite, and its foundation was only
four feet high, resting upon a broad terrace of brickwork; the
latter bounded by a graceful wooden balustrade, with pedestals for
vases, on either side of the two stone steps leading down from the
terrace to the carriage drive. The central halls, in both stories,
divided the space equally into four rooms on each side, and along
the wide front, ran a lofty piazza supporting the roof, with white
smooth round pillars; while the upper broad square windows, cedar-
framed, and deeply embrasured, looked down on the floor of the
piazza, where so many generations of Darringtons had trundled hoops
in childhood--and promenaded as lovers in the silvery moonlight,
listening to the ring doves cooing above them, from the columbary of
the stucco capitals. This spacious colonnade extended around the
northern and eastern side of the house, but the western end had
formerly been enclosed as a conservatory--which having been
abolished, was finally succeeded by a comparatively modern iron
veranda, with steps leading down to the terrace. In front of the
building, between the elm avenue and the flower-bordered terrace,
stood a row of very old poplar trees, tall as their forefathers in
Lombardy, and to an iron staple driven into one of these, a handsome
black horse was now fastened.

Standing with one foot on the terrace step, close to the marble
vases where heliotropes swung their dainty lilac chalices against
her shoulder, and the scarlet geraniums stared unabashed, Beryl's
gaze wandered from the lovely park and ancient trees, to the
unbroken facade of the gray old house; and as, in painful contrast
she recalled the bare bleak garret room, where a beloved invalid
held want and death at bay, a sudden mist clouded her vision, and
almost audibly she murmured: "My poor mother! Now, I can realize the
bitterness of your suffering; now I understand the intensity of your
yearning to come back; the terrible home-sickness, which only Heaven
can cure."

What is presentiment? The swaying of the veil of futurity, under the
straining hands of our guardian angels? Is it the faint shadow, the
solemn rustle of their hovering wings, as like mother birds they
spread protecting plumes between blind fledglings, and descending
ruin? Will theosophy ever explain and augment prescience?

                                    "It may be--
     The thoughts that visit us, we know not whence,
     Sudden as inspiration, are the whispers
     Of disembodied spirits, speaking to us
     As friends, who wait outside a prison wall,
     Through the barred windows speak to those within."

With difficulty Beryl resisted an inexplicable impulse to turn and
flee; but the drawn sword of duty pointed ahead.

Striking her hands together, as if thereby crushing her reluctance
to enter, she waited a moment, with closed eyes, while her lips
moved in silent prayer; then ascending the terrace, she crossed the
stone pavement, walked up the stops and slowly advanced to the
threshold. The dark mahogany door was so glossy, that she dimly saw
her own image on its polished panels, as she lifted and let fall the
heavy silver knocker, in the middle of an oval silver plate, around
the edges of which were raised the square letters of the name
"Darrington." The clanging sound startled a peacock, strutting among
the verbena beds, and his shrill scream was answered by the deep
hoarse bark of some invisible dog; then the heavy door swung open,
and a gray-headed negro man, who wore a white linen apron over his
black clothes, and held a waiter in one hand, stood before her.

"I wish to see Mr. Darrington."

"I reckon you mean Gin'l Darrington, don't you? Mr. Darrington,
Marse Prince Darrington, is in Yurope."

"I mean Mr. Luke Darrington, the owner of this place."

"Jess so; Gin'l Luke Darrington. Well, you can't see him."

"Why not? I must see him, and I shall stay here until I do."

"'Cause he is busy with his lie-yer, fixin' of some papers; and when
he tells me not to let nobody else in I'de ruther set down in a
yaller jacket's nest than to turn the door knob, after he done shut
it. Better leave your name and call ag'in."

"No, I will wait until he is at leisure. I presume my sitting on the
steps here will not be a violation of your orders."

"To be shore not. But them steps are harder than the stool of
repentance, and you had better walk in the drawing-room, and rest
yourself. There's pictures, and lots and piles of things there, you
can pass away the time looking at."

He waved his waiter toward a long, dim apartment, on the left side
of the hall.

"Thank you, I prefer to sit here."

She seated herself on the top of the stone steps, and taking off her
straw hat, fanned her heated brow, where the rich waving hair clung
in damp masses.

"What name, miss, must I give, when the lie-yer finishes his
bizness?"

"Say that a stranger wishes to see him about an important matter."

"Its mighty uncertain how long he will tarry; for lie-yers live by
talking; turning of words upside down, and wrong side outards, and
reading words backards, and whitewashing black things, and smutting
of white ones. Marse Lennox Dunbar (he is our lie-yer now, since his
pa took paralsis) he is a powerful wrastler with justice. They do
say down yonder, at the court house, that when he gets done with a
witness, and turns him aloose, the poor creetur is so flustrated in
his mind, that he don't know his own name, on when he was born, or
where he was born, or whether he was ever born at all."

Curiosity to discover the nature of the stranger's errand had
stimulated the old man's garrulity, but receiving no reply, he
finally retreated, leaving the front door open. By the aid of a
disfiguring scar on his furrowed cheek, Beryl recognized him as the
brave, faithful, family coachman, Abednego, (abbreviated to
"Bedney")--who had once saved his mother's life at the risk of his
own. Mrs. Brentano had often related to her children, an episode in
her childhood, when having gone to play with her dolls in the loft
of the stable, she fell asleep on the hay; and two hours later,
Bedney remembering that he had heard her singing there to her dolls,
rushed into the burning building, groped through the stifling smoke
of the loft, and seizing the sleeping child, threw her out upon a
pile of straw. When he attempted to jump after her, a falling rafter
struck him to the earth, and left an honorable scar in attestation
of his heroism.

Had she yielded to the promptings of her heart, the stranger would
gladly have shaken hands with him, and thanked him, in the name of
those early years, when her mother's childish feet made music on the
wide mahogany railed stairs, that wound from the lower hall to the
one above; but the fear of being denied an audience, deterred her
from disclosing her name.

Educated in the belief that the utterance of the abhorred name of
Brentano, within the precincts of "Elm Bluff," would produce an
effect very similar to the ringing of some Tamil Pariah's bell,
before the door of a Brahman temple, Beryl wisely kept silent; and
soon forgot her forebodings, in the contemplation of the supreme
loveliness of the prospect before her.

The elevation was sufficient to command an extended view of the
surrounding country, and of the river, which crossed by the railroad
bridge north of the town, curved sharply to the east, whence she
could trace its course as it gradually wound southward, and
disappeared behind the house; where at the foot of a steep bluff, a
pretty boat and bath house nestled under ancient willow trees. At
her feet the foliage of the park stretched like some brilliant
carpet, before whose gorgeous tints, ustads of Karman would have
stood in despair; and beyond the sea-green, undulating line of pine
forest she saw the steeple of a church, with its gilt vane burning
in the sunshine, and the red brick dome of the ante bellum court
house.

Time seemed to have fallen asleep on that hot, still afternoon, and
Beryl was roused from her reverie by the sound of hearty laughter in
the apartment opposite the drawing-room--followed by the tones of a
man's voice.

"Thank you, General. That is my destination this afternoon, and I
shall certainly expect you to dance at my wedding."

Quick, firm steps rang on the oil-cloth-covered floor of the hall,
and Beryl rose and turned toward the door.

With a cigar in one hand, hat and riding-whip in the other, the
attorney stepped out on the colonnade, and pausing involuntarily, at
sight of the stranger, they looked at each other. A man, perhaps,
more, certainly not less than thirty years old, of powerful and
impressive physique; very tall, athletic, sinewy, without an ounce
of superfluous flesh to encumber his movements, in the professional
palaestra; with a large finely modeled head, whose crisp black hair
closely cut, was (contrary to the prevailing fashion) parted neither
in the middle, nor yet on the side, but brushed straight back from
the square forehead, thereby enhancing the massiveness of its
appearance.

Something in this swart, beardless face, with its brilliant
inquisitorial dark blue eyes, handsome secretive mouth veiled by no
mustache--and boldly assertive chin deeply cleft in the centre--
affected Beryl very unpleasantly, as a perplexing disagreeable
memory; an uncanny resemblance hovering just beyond the grasp of
identification. A feeling of unaccountable repulsion made her
shiver, and she breathed more freely, when he hewed slightly, and
walked on toward his horse. Upon the attorney her extraordinary
appearance produced a profound impression, and in his brief
scrutiny, no detail of her face, figure, or apparel escaped his keen
probing gaze.

Glancing back as he untied his bridle rein, his unspoken comment
was: "Superb woman; I wonder what brings her here? Evidently a
stranger--with a purpose."

He sprang into the saddle, stooped his head to avoid the yellow
poplar branches, and disappeared under the elm arches.

"Gin'l Darrington's compliments; and if your bizness is pressin' you
will have to see him in his bedcharmber, as he feels poorly to-day,
and the Doctor won't let him out. Follow me. You see, ole Marster
remembers the war by the game leg he got at Sharpshurg, and
sometimes it lays him up."

The old servant led Beryl through a long room, fitted up as a
library and armory, and pausing before an open door, waved her into
the adjoining apartment. One swift glance showed her the heavy
canopied bedstead in one corner, the arch-shaped glass door leading
out upon the iron veranda; and at an oblong table in the middle of
the floor, the figure of a man, who rose, taller and taller, until
he seemed a giant, drawn to his full height, and resting for support
on the hand that was rested upon the table. Intensity of emotion
arrested her breath, as she gazed at the silvered head, piercing
black eyes, and spare wasted framp of the handsome man, who had
always reigned as a brutal ogre in her imagination. The fire in his
somewhat sunken eyes, seemed to bid defiance to the whiteness of the
abundant hair, and of the heavy mustache which drooped over his
lips; and every feature in his patrician face revealed not only a
long line of blue-blooded ancestors, but the proud haughtiness which
had been considered always as distinctively characteristic of the
Darringtons as their finely cut lips, thin nostrils, small feet and
unusual height.

Unprepared for the apparition that confronted him, Luke Darrington
bowed low, surveyed her intently, then pointed to a chair opposite
his own.

"Walk in, Madam; or perhaps it may be Miss? Will you take a seat,
and excuse the feebleness that forces me to receive visits in my
bed-room?"

As he reseated himself, Beryl advanced and stood beside him, but for
a moment she found it impossible to utter the words, rehearsed so
frequently during her journey; and while she hesitated, he curiously
inspected her face and form.

Her plain, but perfectly fitting bunting dress, was of the color,
popularly dominated "navy-blue," and the linen collar and cuffs were
scarcely whiter than the round throat and wrists they encircled. The
burnished auburn hair clinging in soft waves to her brow, was
twisted into a heavy coil, which the long walk had shaken down till
it rested almost on her neck; and though her heart beat furiously,
the pale calm face might have been marble, save for the scarlet
lines of her beautiful mouth, and the steady glow of the dilated
pupils in her great gray eyes.

"Pray be seated; and tell me to whom I am indebted for the pleasure
of this visit?"

"I am merely the bearer of a letter which will explain itself, and
my presence, in your house."

Mechanically he took the preferred letter, and with his eyes still
lingering in admiration upon the classic outlines of her face and
form, leaned back comfortably against the velvet lining of his
armchair.

"Are you some exiled goddess travelling incognito? If we lived in
the 'piping days of Pan' I should flatter myself that 'Ox-eyed Juno'
had honored me with a call, as a reward for my care of her favorite
bird."

Receiving no reply he glanced at the envelope in his hand, and as he
read the address--"To my dear father, Gen'l Luke Darrington"--the
smile on his face changed to a dark scowl and he tossed the letter
to the floor, as if it were a red-hot coal.

"Only one living being has the right to call me father--my son,
Prince Darrington. I have repeatedly refused to hold any
communication with the person who wrote that letter."

Beryl stooped to pick it up, and with a caressing touch, as though
it were sentient, held it against her heart.

"Your daughter is dying; and this is her last appeal."

"I have no daughter. Twenty-three years ago my daughter buried
herself in hopeless disgrace, and for her there can be no
resurrection here. If she dreams that I am in my dotage, and may
relent, she strangely forgets the nature of the blood she saw fit to
cross with that of a beggarly foreign scrub. Go back and tell her,
the old man is not yet senile and imbecile; and that the years have
only hardened his heart. Tell her, I have almost learned to forget
even how she looked."

His eyes showed a dull reddish fire, like those of some drowsy caged
tiger, suddenly stirred into wrath, and a grayish pallor--the white
heat of the Darringtons--settled on his face.

Twice Beryl walked the length of the room, but each time the
recollection of her mother's tearful, suffering countenance, and the
extremity of her need, drove her back to the chair.

"If you knew that your daughter's life hung by a thread, would you
deliberately take a pair of shears and cut it?"

He glared at her in silence, and leaning forward on the table,
pushed roughly aside a salver, on which stood a decanter and two
wine glasses.

"I am here to tell you a solemn truth; then my responsibility ends.
Your daughter's life rests literally in your hands; for unless you
consent to furnish the money to pay for a surgical operation, which
may restore her health, she will certainly die. I am indulging in no
exaggeration to extort alms. In this letter is the certificate of a
distinguished physician, corroborating my statement. If you, the
author of her being, prefer to hasten her death, then your choice of
an awful revenge must be settled between your hardened conscience
and your God."

"You are bold indeed, to beard me in my own house, and tell me to my
face what no man would dare to utter."

His voice was an angry pant, and he struck his clenched hand on the
table with a force that made the glasses jingle, and the sherry
dance in the decanter.

"Yes, you scarcely realize how much bravery this painful errand
demands; but the tender love in a woman's heart nerves her to bear
fiery ordeals, that vanquish a man's courage."

"Then you find that age has not drawn the fangs from the old
crippled Darrington lion, nor clipped his claws?"

The sneer curved his white mustache, until she saw the outline of
the narrow, bloodless underlip.

"That king of beasts scorns to redden his fangs, or flesh his claws,
in the quivering body of his own offspring. Your metaphor is an
insult to natural instincts."

She laid the letter once more before him, and looked down on him,
with ill-concealed aversion.

"Who are you? By what right dare you intrude upon me?"

"I am merely a sorrowful, anxious, poverty-stricken woman, whose
heart aches over her mother's sufferings and vho would never have
endured the humiliation of this interview, except to deliver a
letter in the hope of prolonging my mother's life."

"You do not mean that you are--my--"

"I am nothing to you, sir, but the bearer of a letter from your
dying daughter."

"You cannot be the child of--of Ellice?"

After the long limbo of twenty-three years, the name burst from him,
and with what a host of memories its echo peopled the room, where
that erring daughter had formerly reigned queen of his heart.

"Yes, Ellice is my dear mother's name."

He stared at the majestic form, and at the faultless face looking so
proudly down upon him, as from an inaccessible height; and she heard
him draw his breath, with a labored hissing sound.

"But--I thought her child was a boy?"

"I am the youngest of two children."

"It is impossible that you are the daughter of that infernal, low-
born, fiddling foreign vagabond who--"

"Hush! The dead are sacred!"

She threw up her hand, with an imperious gesture, not of
deprecation, but of interdict; and all the stony calm in her pale
face seemed shivered by a passionate gust, that made her eyes gleam
like steel under an electric flash.

"I am the daughter of Ignace Brentano, and I love, and honor his
memory, and his name. No drop of your Darrington blood runs in my
veins; I love my dear mother--but I am my father's daughter--and I
want no nobler heritage than his name. Upon you I have no shadow of
claim, but I am here from dire necessity, at your mercy--a helpless,
defenseless pleader in my mother's behalf--and as such, I appeal to
the boasted southern chivalry, upon which you pride yourself, for
immunity from insult while I am under your roof. Since I stood no
taller than your knee, my mother has striven to inculcate a belief
in the nobility, refinement, and chivalric deference to womanhood,
inherent in southern gentlemen; and if it be not all a myth, I
invoke its protection against abuse of my father. A stranger, but a
lady, every inch, I demand the respect due from a gentleman."

For a moment they eyed each other, as gladiators awaiting the
signal, then General Darrington sprang to his feet, and with a bow,
stately and profound as if made to a duchess, replied:

"And in the name of southern chivalry, I swear you shall receive
it."

"Read your daughter's letter; give me your answer, and let us cut
short an interview--which, if disagreeable to you, is almost
unendurable to me."

Turning away, she began to walk slowly up and down the floor; and
smothering an oath under his heavy mustache, the old man sank back
in his chair, and opened the letter.




CHAPTER III.


Holding in leash the painful emotions that struggled for utterance,
Beryl was unconscious of the lapse of time, and when her averted
eyes returned reluctantly to her grandfather's face, he was slowly
tearing into shreds the tear-stained letter, freighted with
passionate prayers for pardon, and for succor. Rolling the strips
into a ball, he threw it into the waste-paper basket under the
table; then filled a glass with sherry, drank it, and dropped his
head wearily on his hand. Five leaden minutes crawled away, and a
long, heavy sigh quivered through Gen'l Darrington's gaunt frame.
Seizing the decanter, he poured the contents into two glasses, and
as he raised one to his lips, held the other toward his visitor.

"You must be weary from your journey; let me insist that you drink
some sherry."

"Thank you, I neither wish nor require it."

"I find your name is Beryl. Sit down here, and answer a few
questions." He drew a chair near his own.

She shook her head:

"If you will excuse me, I prefer to stand."

In turning, so as to confront her fully, his elbow struck from the
table, a bronze paper-weight which rolled just beyond his reach.
Instinctively she stooped to pick it up, and in restoring it, her
fingers touched his. Leaning suddenly forward he grasped her wrists
ere she was aware of his intention, and drew her in front of him.

"Pardon me; but I want a good look at you."

His keen merciless eyes searched every feature, and he deliberately
lifted and examined the exquisitely shaped strong, white hands, the
dainty nails, and delicately rounded wrists with their violet
tracery of veins. It cost her an effort, to abstain from wrenching
herself free; but her mother's caution: "So much depends on the
impression you make upon father," girded her to submit to his
critical inspection.

A grim smile crossed his face, as he watched her.

"Blood often doubles, like a fox; sometimes 'crops back,' but never
lies. You can't play out your role of pauper; and you don't look a
probable outcome of destitution and hard work. Your hands would fit
much better in a metope of the Elgin Marbles, than in a wash-tub, or
a bake-oven."

Drawing away quickly, she put them behind her, and felt her palms
tingle.

"It is expected I should believe that for some time past, you have
provided for your own, and your mother's wants. In what way?"

"By coloring photographs; by furnishing designs for Christmas and
Easter cards, and occasionally (not often), by selling drawings used
for decorating china, and wallpaper. At one time, I had regular pay
for singing in a choir, but diphtheria injured my throat, and when I
partly recovered my voice, the situation had been given to another
person."

"I am informed also that before long, you intend to astonish the
world with a wonderful picture, which shall distance such laggards
as Troyon, Dore, and Ary Scheffer?"

She was looking, not at him, but out through the glass door, at the
glowing western sky, where distant pine trees printed their
silhouettes. Now her gaze came back to his face, and he noted a
faint quiver in her full throat.

"If God will mercifully spare my mother to me, my loftiest and
holiest ambition shall be to distance the wolfish cares and woes
that have hunted her. ever since she became a widow. Any and all
honest labor that can contribute to her comfort, will be welcome and
sweet to me."

"The laws of heredity must be occult and complex. The offspring of a
rebellious and disobedient child, is certainly entitled to no filial
instincts; and some day the strain will tell, and you will overwhelm
your mother with ingratitude, black as that which she showed me."

"When I do, may God eternally forsake me!"

A brief silence ensued, and the old man drummed on the table, with
the fingers of his right hand.

"Who educated you?"

"My dear father."

"It seems there are two of you. Where is your brother?"

"At present, I do not know exactly where he is, but I think in the
far West; possibly in Montana--probably in Canada."

"How does he earn his bread? By daubing, or fiddling?"

"Since he earns it honestly, that is his own affair. We have not
heard from him for some months."

"I thought so! He inherits the worthless vagabond strain of--"

"He is his mother's idol, and she glories in his resemblance to you,
sir; and to your father; hence his name--Robert L. Darrington."

"Then she must have one handsome child! I am not surprised that he
is the favorite."

"Bertie certainly is her darling, and he is very handsome; not in
the very least degree like me."

For the first time, their eyes met in a friendly glance, and a
covert smile stirred the General's lips; but as he put out his hand
toward her, she moved a step beyond his reach.

"Beryl, you consider me a dreadful, cruel old tyrant?"

She made no reply.

"Answer me."

"You are my mother's father; and that word--father, means so much to
me, that it shall shield even you, from the shadow of disrespect."

"Oh! very dutiful indeed, but dead as the days when daughters
obeyed, and honored their fathers! Beggarly foreign professors wiped
all that out of the minds of wealthy girls at boarding schools--just
as they changed their backwoods pronunciation of French and Italian.
Don't evade my question."

"I did not come here, sir, to bandy words; and I ended my mission by
delivering the letter intrusted to me."

"You regard me as a vindictive old bear?"

"I had heard much of the Darringtons; I imagined a great deal more;
but now, like the Queen of Sheba, I must testify--'Behold, the half
was not told me.'"

He threw back his lion-like head, and laughed.

"That will do. Shake hands, child."

"No, thank you."

"And you will not sit down?"

"Frankly, I prefer not. I long to get away."

"You shall certainly be gratified, but there are a few things which
I intend you shall hear. Of course you know that your mother was my
only child, and an heiress; but you are ignorant probably of the
fact that when she returned to boarding school for the last session,
she was engaged in marriage to the son of my best friend--a man in
every respect desirable, and thoroughly acceptable to me."

"So my mother told me."

"Indeed? She should blush to remember it. While she wore his
engagement ring, she forgot her promise to him, her duty to me, her
lineage, her birth, her position--and was inveigled by a low
adventurer who--"

"Who was my own precious father--poor, but noble, and worthy of any
princess! Unless you can refer to him respectfully, name him not at
all, in his child's presence."

She suddenly towered over him, like some threatening fate, and her
uplifted arm trembled from the intensity of her indignation.

"At least--you are loyal to your tribe!"

"I am, to my heart's core. You could pay me no higher compliment."

"Ellice wrote that she had bestowed her affections on--on--the
'exiled scion of a noble house,' who paid his board bill by teaching
languages and music in the school; and who very naturally preferred
to marry a rich fool, who would pay them for him. I answered her
letter, which was addressed to her own mother--then quite ill at
home--and I told her precisely what she might expect, if she
persisted in her insane folly. As soon as my wife convalesced
sufficiently to render my departure advisable, I started to bring my
daughter home; but she ran away, a few hours before my arrival, and
while, hoping to rescue Ellice, I was in pursuit of the precious
pair, my wife relapsed and died--the victim of excitement brought on
by her child's disgrace. I came back here to a desolate, silent
house;--bereft of wife and daughter; and in the grave of her mother,
I buried every atom of love and tenderness I ever entertained for
Ellice. When the sun is suddenly blotted out at noon, and the world
turns black--black, we grope to and fro aimlessly; but after awhile,
we accommodate ourselves to the darkness;--and so, I became a
different man--very hard, and I dare say very bitter. The world soon
learned that I would tolerate no illusion to my disgrace, and people
respected my family cancer, and prudently refrained from offering me
nostrums to cure it. My wife had a handsome estate of her own right,
and every cent of her fortune I collected, and sent with her jewelry
to Ellice. Did you know this?"

"I have heard only of the jewels."

"As I supposed, the money was squandered before you could
recollect."

"I know that we were reduced to poverty, by the failure of some
banking house in Paris. I was old enough when it occurred, to
remember ever afterward, the dismay and distress it caused. My
father no doubt placed my mother's money there for safety."

"I wrote one long, final letter when I sent the checks for the
money, and I told Ellice I wished never to see, never to hear from
her again. I told her also, I had only one wish concerning her, and
that was, that I might be able to forget her so completely, that if
we should meet in the Last Judgment, I could not possibly know her.
I assured her she need expect nothing at my death; as I had taken
good care that my estate should not fall into the clutches of--her--
'exiled scion of a noble house.' Now do you consider that she has
any claim on me?"

"You must not ask me to sit in judgment on my parents."

"You shall decide a question of business facts. I provided liberally
for her once; can you expect me to do so again? Has she any right to
demand it?"

"Having defied your parental wishes, she may have forfeited a
daughter's claim; but as a heart-broken sufferer, you cannot deny
her the melancholy privilege of praying for your help, on her death-
bed."

The proud clear voice trembled, and Beryl covered her face with her
hands.

"Then we will ignore outraged ties of blood, and treat on the ground
of mere humanity? Let me conclude, for it is sickening and loathsome
to a man of my age, to see his long silent household graves yawn,
and give up uncalled--their sheeted dead. For some years the money
sent, was a quietus, and I was left in peace. I was lonely; it was,
hard work to forget, because I could never forgive; and the more
desolate the gray ruin, the more nature yearns to cover it close
with vines and flowers; so after a time, I married a gentle, pure
hearted woman, who made the best of what was left of me. We had no
children, but she had one son of a former marriage, who proved a
noble trustworthy boy; and by degrees he crept into my heart, and
raked together the cinders of my dead affections, and kindled a
feeble flame that warmed my shivering old age. When I felt assured
that I was not thawing another serpent to sting me for my pains, I
adopted Thorton Prince, and with the aid of a Legislative enactment,
changed his name to Prince Darrington. Only a few months elapsed,
before his mother, of whom I was very fond, died of consumption and
my boy and I comforted each other. Then I made my second and last
will, and took every possible precaution to secure my estate of
every description to him. He is my sole heir, and I intend that at
my death he shall receive every cent I possess. Did you know this?"

"I did, because your last endorsement on a letter of my mother's
returned unopened to her, informed her of the fact."

"Why? Because in violation of my wishes she had persisted in
writing, and soon began to importune me for money. Then I made her
understand that even at my death, she would receive no aid; and
since that endorsement, I have returned or destroyed her letters
unread. My Will is so strong--has been drawn so carefully--that no
contest can touch it; and it will stand forever between your mother
and my property."

As he uttered these words, he elevated his voice, which had a ring
of savage triumph in its harsh excited tones. Just then, a muffled
sound attracted his attention, and seizing his gold-headed cane, he
limped with evident pain to the threshold of the adjoining room.

"Bedney."

Receiving no reply, he closed the door with a violence that jarred
the whole room; and came slowly back to the table, where he stood
leaning heavily on his stick.

"At least we will have no eavesdropping at this resurrection of my
dead. That Ellice is now a miserable woman, I have no doubt; for
truly: 'Quien se casa por amores, ha de vivir con dolores.' Of
course you understand Spanish?"

"No, sir; but no matter; I take it for granted that you intend some
thrust at my mother, and I have heard quite enough."

"Don't know Spanish? Why I fancied your--your 'exiled scion of a
noble house'--taught all the languages under the sun; including that
used by the serpent in beguiling Eve! Well, the wise old adage
means: 'Who marries for love, lives with sorrow.' Ellice made her
choice, and she shall abide by it; and you--being unluckily her
daughter--will share the punishment. If 'fathers WILL eat sour
grapes, the children's teeth MUST be set on edge.' I repudiate all
claims on my parental treasury, save such as I have given to my son
Prince. To every other draft I am bankrupt; but merely as a
gentleman, I will now for the last time, respond to the petition of
a sick woman, whose child is so loyal as to arouse my compassion.
Ellice has asked for one hundred dollars. You shall have it. But
first, tell me why she did not go to the hospital, and submit to the
operation which she says will cure her?"

"Because I could not be with her there, and I will never be
separated from her. The aneurism has grown so alarmingly, that I
became desperate, and having no one to aid us, I reluctantly obeyed
my mother's requirement that I should come here. I could not summon
my brother, because I have no idea where a letter would reach him;
and with no friend--but the God of the friendless--I am before you.
There is one thing I ought to tell you; I have terrible forebodings
of the result of the operation, from which the Doctor encourages her
to hope so much. She will not be able to take anesthetics, at least
not chloroform, because she has a weak heart, and--"

"Yes--a very weak heart! It was never strong enough to hold her to
her duty."

"If you could see her now, I think even your vindictive hatred would
be sufficiently gratified. So wasted, so broken!--and with such a
ceaseless craving for a kind word from you. One night last week pain
made her restless, and I heard her sob. When I tried to relieve the
suffering, she cried bitterly: 'It is not my poor body alone--it is
the gnawing hunger to see father once more. He loved me so fondly
once and if I could crawl to his feet, and clasp his knees in my
arms, I could at least die in peace. I am starving for just one
sight of him--one touch.' My poor darling mother! My beautiful,
bruised, broken flower."

Through the glittering mist of unshed tears, her eyes shone, like
silver lamps; and for a moment Gen'l Darrington covered his face
with one hand.

"If you could realize how bitterly galling to my own pride and self
respect is this appeal to a man who hates and spurns all whom I
love, I think, sir, that even you would pity me so heartily, that
your hardened heart would melt into one last farewell message of
forgiveness to your unfortunate daughter. I would rather carry her
one word of love than all your fortune."

"No--I come of a flinty race. We never forgive insults; never
condone wrongs; and expecting loyalty in our own blood, we cannot
live long enough to pardon its treachery. Once, I made an idol of my
beautiful, graceful, high-bred girl; but she stabbed my pride,
dragged my name through the gutters, broke her doting mother's
heart; and now, I tell you, she is as dead to me as if she had lain
twenty-three years in her grave. I have only one message. Tell her
she is reaping the tares her own hand sowed. I know her no more as
child of mine, and my son fills her place so completely, I do not
even miss her. That is the best I can say. No doubt I am hard, but
at least I am honest; and I will not feign what I cannot feel."

He limped across the floor, to a recess on one side of the chimney,
where a square vault with an iron door had been built into the wall.
Leaning on his cane, he took from his pocket a bunch of keys, fitted
one into the lock, and pushing the bolt, the door slid back into a
groove, instead of opening on hinges. He lifted a black tin box from
the depths of the vault, carried it to the table, sat down, and
opened it. Near the top, were numerous papers tied into packages
with red tape, and two large envelopes carefully sealed with dark-
green wax. In removing the bundles, to find something beneath them,
these envelopes were laid on the table; and as one was either
accidentally or intentionally turned, Beryl saw the endorsement
written in bold black letters, and heavily underscored in red ink:
"Last Will and Testament of Robert Luke Darrington." Untying a small
chamois bag, the owner counted out five twenty-dollar gold pieces,
closed the bag, and replaced it in the box.

"Hold out your hand. Your mother asked fur one hundred dollars. Here
is the exact amount. Henceforth, leave me in peace. I am an old man,
and I advise you to 'let sleeping dogs lie.'"

If he had laid a red-hot iron on her palm, it would scarcely have
been more scorching than the touch of his gold, and only the vision
of a wan and woeful face in that far off cheerless attic room,
restrained her impulse to throw it at his feet.

An almost intolerable humiliation dyed her pale cheeks a deep
purplish crimson, and she proudly drew herself to her utmost height.

"Because I cannot now help myself, I accept the money--not as a
gift, but as a loan for my mother's benefit; and so help me God! I
will not owe it to you one moment longer than by hard labor I can
earn and return it. Goodbye, Gen'l Darrington."

She turned toward the closed door leading to the library, but
raising his cane, he held it out, to intercept her.

"Wait a moment. There is one thing more."

He took from the tin box an oblong package, wrapped in letter paper,
yellowed by age, and carefully sealed with red wax. As he held it
up, she read thereon: "My last folly." He tore off the paper, lifted
an old fashioned morocco case, and attempted to open it, but the
catch was obstinate, or rusty, and several ineffectual efforts were
made, ere he succeeded in moving the spring. The once white velvet
cushion, had darkened and turned very yellow, but time had robbed in
no degree, the lustre of the magnificent sapphires coiled there; and
the blue fires leaped out, as if rejoicing in the privilege of
displaying their splendor.  "This set of stones was intended as a
gift to your mother, when she was graduated at boarding-school. The
time fixed for the close of the session was only one month later
than the day on which she eloped with that foreign fraud, who should
never have been allowed in the school. My wife had promised that if
your mother won the honor of valedictorian, she should have the
handsomest present ever worn at a commencement. These costly
sapphires were my poor wife's choice. Poor Helena! how often she
admired them!" His voice faltered, and he bit his under lip to still
its quiver.

Was there some necromancy in the azure flames, that suddenly
revealed the beloved face of the wife of his youth, and the lovely
vision of their only child? His eagle eyes were dim with tears, and
his hand shook; but, as if ashamed of the weakness, he closed the
jewel case with a snap, and held it out.

"Here--take them. I had intended to give them as a bridal present to
my son's wife, when he marries to suit me--as he certainly will; but
somehow, such a disposal seems hard on my dear Helena's wishes, and
for her sake, I don't feel quite easy about leaving them to Prince's
bride. Your mother never saw them, never knew of their existence.
They are very valuable, and the amount they will bring must relieve
all present necessities. Tell Ellice the sight of the case disturbs
me, like a thorn in the flesh, so I send them away, to rid myself of
an annoyance. She must not thank me; they come from her--dead
mother."

"A knowledge of their history would give her infinitely more pain
than the proceeds of their sale could bring comfort. I would not
stab her aching heart for twenty times the value of the jewels."

"Then sell them, or do as you like. It matters not what becomes of
them, if I am spared in future all reminders of the past. Put them
in your pocket. What? The case is too large? Where is your trunk--
your baggage?"

"I have none, except my basket and shawl."

She picked them up from the carpet near the library door, and
dropped the case into her basket.

"You are a brave, and a loyal woman, and you appear to deserve far
better parents than fell to your lot. Before you go, let me offer
you a glass of wine, and a biscuit."

"Thank you--no. I could not possibly accept it."

"Well, we shall never meet again. Good-bye. Shake hands."

"I will very gladly do so if you will only give me just one gentle,
forgiving kind word to comfort mother."

He set his teeth, and shook his head.

"Good-bye, Gen'l Darrington. When you lie down to die, I hope God
will be more merciful to your poor soul, than you have shown
yourself to your suffering child."

He bowed profoundly.

Her hand was on the knob of the door, when he pointed to the western
veranda.

"You are going back to town? Then, if you please, be so good as to
pass out through that rear entrance, and close the glass door after
you. A side path leads to the lawn; and I prefer that you should not
meet the servants, who pry and tattle."

When she stood on the veranda, and turned to close the wide arched
glass door, whence the inside red silk curtain had been looped back,
her last view of the gaunt, tall figure within, showed him leaning
on his stick, with the tin box held in his left hand, and the dying
sunlight shining on his silver hair and furrowed face.

Along the serpentine path which was bordered with masses of
brilliant chrysanthemums, Beryl walked rapidly, feeling almost
stifled by the pressure of contending emotions. Recollecting that
these spice censers of Autumn were her mother's favorite flowers,
she stooped and broke several lovely clusters of orange and garnet
color, hoping that a lingering breath of perfume from the home of
her girlhood, might afford at least a melancholy pleasure to the
distant invalid.

Advancing into the elm avenue, she heard a voice calling, and
looking back, saw the old negro man, Bedney, waving his white apron
and running toward her; but at that moment his steps were arrested
by the sudden, loud and rapid ringing of a bell. He paused,
listened, wavered; then threw up his hands, and hurried back to the
house, whence issued the impatient summons.

The sun had gone down in the green sea of far-off pine tops, but the
western sky glowed like some vast altar of topaz, whereon zodiacal
fires had kindled the rays of vivid rose, that sprang into the
zenith and cooled their flush in the pale blue of the upper air.
Under the elms, swift southern twilight was already filling the
arches with purple gloom, and when the heavy iron gate closed with a
sullen clang behind her, Beryl drew a long deep breath of relief. On
the sultry atmosphere broke the gurgling andante music of the
"branch," as it eddied among the nodding ferns, and darted under the
bridge; and the weary, thirsty woman knelt on the mossy margin,
dipped up the amber water in her palms, drank, and bathed her
burning face which still tingled painfully.

Having learned from the station agent, who had already sold her a
return ticket, that the north bound railway train, by which she
desired to travel home, would not depart until 7.15, she was
beguiled by the brilliance of the sky into the belief that she had
ample time, to comply with her mother's farewell request. Mrs.
Brentano had tied with a scrap of ribbon the bouquet of flowers,
bought by her daughter on the afternoon of her journey south, and
asked her to lay them on her mother's grave.

Anxious to accomplish this sacred mission Beryl took the faded
blossoms from her basket, added a cluster of chrysanthemums, a frond
of fern from the "branch" border, and hurried on to the cemetery.
When she reached the entrance, the gate was locked, but unwilling to
return without having gratified her mother's wish, she climbed into
a spreading cedar close by the low brick wall, and swung herself
easily down inside the enclosure.

Some time was lost in finding the Darrington lot, but at last she
stood before a tall iron railing, that bristled with lance-like
points, between the dust, of her ancestors and herself. In one
corner rose a beautiful monument, bearing on its front, in gilt
letters, the inscription "Helena Tracy, wife of R. L. Darrington."

Thrusting her hand through a space in the railing, Beryl dropped her
mother's withered Arkja tribute on the marble slab. Her dress was
caught by a sharp point of iron, and while endeavoring to disengage
it, she heard the shrill whistle of the R. R. engine. Tearing the
skirt away, she ran to the wall, climbed over, after some delay, and
finding herself once more in the open road, darted on as fast as
possible through the dusk, heedless of appearances, fearful only of
missing the train. How the houses multiplied, and what interminable
lengths the squares seemed, as she neared the brick warehouse and
office of the station! The lamps at the street corners beckoned her
on, and when panting for breath she rushed around the side of the
tall building that fronted the railway, there was no train in sight.

Two or three coal cars stood on a siding, near a detached engine,
where one man was lighting the lamp before the reflector of the
headlight, and another, who whistled merrily, burnished the brass
and copper platings. In the door of the ticket office the agent
lounged, puffed his cigar, and fanned himself with his hat.

"What time is it?" cried Beryl.

"Seven-forty-five."

"Oh! do not tell me I have missed the train."

"You certainly have. I told you it left at 7:15 sharp. It was ten
minutes behind time on account of hot boxes, but rolled out just
twenty minutes ago. Did you get lost hunting 'Elm Bluff,' and miss
your train on that account?"

"No, I had no difficulty in finding the place, but having no watch,
I was forced to guess at the time. Only twenty minutes too late!"

"Did you see the old war-horse?"

Beryl did not answer, and after a moment the agent added:

"That is Gen'l Darrington's nick-name all over this section."

"When will the next train leave here?"

"Not until 3:05 A.M."

Beryl sat down on the edge of a baggage truck, and pondered the
situation. She knew that her mother, who had carefully studied the
railway schedule, was with feverish anxiety expecting her return by
the train, now many miles away; and she feared that any unexplained
detention would have an injurious effect on the sick woman's
shattered nerves.

Although she could ill afford the expense, she resolved to allay all
apprehension, by the costly sedative of a telegram.

Only a wall separated the ticket office from that of the
"telegraph," and approaching the operator, Beryl asked for a blank
form, on which she wrote her mother's address, and the following
message:

"Complete success required delay. All will be satisfactory. Expect
me Saturday. B. B."

When she had paid the operator, there remained in her purse,
exclusive of the gold coins received that afternoon, only thirty-
eight cents. Where could she spend the next seven hours?
Interpreting the perplexed expression of her face, the agent, who
had curiously noted her movements, said courteously:

"There is a hotel a few blocks off, where you can rest until train
time."

"I prefer to remain here."

"We generally lock up this office about half-past eight, and re-open
at half-past two, which gives passengers ample accommodation for the
3:05 train."

"Would you violate regulations by leaving the waiting-room open to-
night?"

"Not exactly; as of course we are obliged to keep open for delayed
trains; but it will be lonesome waiting, for no one stays here,
except the Night Train Despatcher, and the switch watchman. Still if
it will oblige you, miss, I will not lock up, and you can doze away
the time by spreading your shawl on two chairs. I am going to supper
now, and shall turn down the lights. One burner will be sufficient."

"Thank you very much. Where can I find some water?"

"In the cooler in the ladies' dressing-room. It is most
unaccountably hot tonight, and I never knew anything like it in
October. There must be a cyclone brewing somewhere not far off."

He lifted his hat, as he passed her, and disappeared; and the tired
girl seated herself near a window and stirred the dense, impure air
by fanning herself with her straw hat. Gradually the few stragglers
loitering about the station wandered away; the engineer stepped upon
the locomotive; a piercing whistle broke suddenly on the silence
settling down over the whilom busy precincts, and as the rhythmic
measure of the engine bell rang farewell chimes, a pyramid of sparks
leaped high, and the mighty mechanism fled down the track, hunting
its own echoes. The man in charge of the express office came out,
looked up and down the street; yawned, lighted his pipe, and after
locking the office, wended his way homeward.

From the adjoining room came the slow monotonous clicking of the
telegraph wires, as messages passed to other stations, and only the
switch watchman was visible, sitting on an inverted tub, and playing
snatches from "Mascotte" and "Olivette" upon a harmonicon.

Heat seemed radiating from the brick pavement outside, from the
inner walls of the waiting-room; and Beryl, finding the atmosphere
almost stifling, went out under the stars. Up and down she paced,
until weary of the dusty thoroughfare, she turned into the street
which, earlier in the day, had conducted her toward the suburbs. She
knew that a full moon had climbed above the horizon, and some malign
Morgana lured her on, with visions of cool pine glades paved with
silver mosaics, and balmy with breath of balsam; where through vast
forest naves echoed the melodious monody chanted by the reddish gold
wavelets of the "branch." In the eastern sky the florid face of a
hunter's moon looked down, from the level line of a leaden cloud,
which striped the star emblazoned shield of night, like a bar
sinister; and the white lustre of her rays was dimmed to a lurid
dulness solemn and presageful.

As Beryl crossed the common near the station, and entered the
pillared aisles of the pines, the air was less oppressive, but a dun
haze seemed on every side to curtain the horizon, and the stars
looked bleared and tired in the breathless vault above her. A man
driving two cows toward town, stared at her; then a wagon drawn by
four horses rattled along, bearing homeward a gay picnic party of
young people, who made the woods ring with the echoes of "Hold the
Fort." The grandeur of towering pines, the mysterious dimness of
illimitable arcades, and the peculiar resinous odor that stole like
lingering ghosts of myrrh, frankincense and onycha through the
vaulted solitude of a deserted hoary sanctuary, all these phases of
primeval Southern forests combined to weave a spell that the
stranger could not resist.

After a while, fearful of straying too far, the weary woman threw
her shawl on the brown straw, and sat down quite near the road. She
leaned her bare head against the trunk of a pine, listened to the
katydids gossiping in a distant oak that shaded the "branch," to the
quavering strident song of a locust; and she intended, after resting
for a few moments, to return to the station-house; but unexpected
drowsiness overpowered her. Suddenly aroused from a sound sleep, she
heard the clatter of galloping hoofs, and as she sprang up, the
horse, startled by her movement, shied and reared within a few feet
of the spot where she stood. The moon shone full on the glossy black
animal, and upon his powerful rider, and Beryl recognized the
massive head, swarthy face and keen eyes of the attorney, Lennox
Dunbar. He leaned forward and said, as he patted the erect ears of
his horse:

"Madam, you seem a stranger. Have you lost your way?"

"No, sir."

"Pardon me; but having seen you this afternoon at 'Elm Bluff,' I
thought it possible you had missed the road."

Standing so straight and tall, with the sheen of the moon on her
faultless features, he thought she looked the incarnation of some
prescient Norn, fit for the well of Urda.

She made no reply; and he touched his hat, and rode rapidly away in
the direction of the town, carrying an indelible impression of the
mysterious picture under the pines.

The sky had changed; the face of the moon had cleared, but tatters
and scuds of smoke-colored cloud fled northward, as if scourged by a
stormy current too high to stir the sultry stagnation of the lower
atmospheric stratum. From its vaporous lair somewhere in the cypress
and palm jungles of the Mexican Gulf borders, the tempest had risen,
and before its breath the shreds of cloud flew like avant couriers
of disaster. Already the lurid glare of incessant sheet lightning
fought with the moon for supremacy, and from a leaden wall along the
southeastern sky, came the long reverberating growl of thunder, that
told where the electric batteries had opened fire. A vague
foreboding, which for several days had haunted Beryl's mind, now
pressed so heavily upon her, that she hurried back to the station,
which was near the edge of the town; and more than once she started
nervously at sight of grotesque shadows cast by the trees across the
sandy road.

The streets were deserted, and lights gleamed only in upper windows
of apartments, where sick sufferers tossed, or tender mothers sang
soft lullabys to restless babies crooning in their cribs. Now and
then a sudden gust of wind shook the yellow berries from the china
trees, that bordered the pavements, and very soon the moonshine
faded, then flashed fitfully, and finally vanished, as the
blackening cloud swept over the face of earth and sky. The watchman
dozed on his post of observation; a porter slept on a baggage truck
under the awning, and as Beryl peeped into the telegraph office, she
heard the snoring of the operator, whose head rested upon the table
close to the silent instrument. She listened to the ticking of a
clock in the ticket office, but could not see its face; wondered how
late it was, and how long she had been absent. Feeling very lonely
and restless she closed the door, and sat down in the deserted
waiting-room, glad of the companionship of a tortoise-shell cat
which was curled up on a chair next her own.

Gradually the storm approached, and she thought that an hour had
elapsed, when the dust-tainted smell of rain came with the rush of
cold air. There was no steady gale, but the tempest broke in frantic
spasmodic gusts, as though it had lost its reckoning, and
simultaneously assaulted all the points of the compass; while the
lightning glared almost continuously, and the roar of the thunder
was uninterrupted. Now and then a vivid zig-zag flash gored the
intense darkness with its baleful blue death-light, followed by a
crash, appalling as if the battlements of heaven had been shattered.
Once the whole air seemed ablaze, and the simultaneous shock of the
detonation was so violent, that Beryl involuntarily sank on her
knees, and hid her eyes on a chair. The rain fell in torrents, that
added a solemn sullen swell to the diapason of the thunder fugue,
and by degrees a delicious coolness crept into the cisterns of the
night.

When the cloud had wept away its fury, and electric fires burned low
in the far west, a gentle shower droned on the roof, and lulled by
its cadence Beryl fell asleep, still kneeling on the floor, with her
head resting on the chair where the cat lay coiled.

In dreams, she wandered with her father and brother upon a Tuscan
hillside draped with purple fruited grape vines, and Bertie was
crushing a luscious cluster against her thirsty lips, when some
noise startled her. Wide awake, she sprang to her feet, and
listened.

"There ain't no train till daylight, 'cepting it be the through
freight."

"When is that due?"

"Pretty soon; it's mighty nigh time now, but it don't stop here; it
goes on to the water tank, whar it blows for the railroad bridge."

"How far is the bridge?"

"Only a short piece down the track, after you pass the tank."

Beryl had rushed to the window, and looked out, but no one was
visible. She could scarcely mistake that peculiar voice, and was so
assured of its identity, that she ran out under the awning and
looked up and down the platform in front of the station buildings.
The rain had ceased, but drops still pattered from the tin roof, and
a few stars peeped over the ragged ravelled edge of slowly drifting
clouds. By the light of a gas lamp, she saw an old negro man limping
away, who held a stick over his shoulder, on which was slung a
bundle wrapped in a red handkerchief; and while she stood watching,
he vanished in some cul de sac. With her basket in her hand, and her
shawl on her arm, she sped down the track, looking to right and
left.

"Bertie! Bertie!"

Once she fancied she discerned a form flying ahead of her, leaping
from cross tie to cross tie to avoid the water, but when she called
vehemently, only the sound of her own voice broke the silence.

Was it merely an illusion born of her vivid dream of her brother;
and while scarcely awake, had she confounded the tones of a
stranger, with those so long familiar? She could not shake off the
conviction that Bertie had really spoken only a few yards from her,
and while she stood irresolute, puzzling over the problem, the
through freight train dashed by the station and left a trail of
sparks and cinders. To avoid it she sprang on a pile of cross ties
beside the track, and when the fiery serpent wound out of sight, she
reluctantly retraced her steps. How long the night seemed! Would day
never dawn again? She heard the telegraph operator whistling at his
work, and as she re-entered the waiting-room, she saw the ticket
agent standing in his office.

"What time is it?"

"Half-past two o'clock. I might as well have locked up as usual, for
after all, you did not stay here."

"Yes I did."

He eyed her suspiciously.

"I came back from supper, and brought a pitcher of cold tea,
thinking you might relish it, but you were not here. I waited nearly
an hour; then I went home."

"It was so hot, I walked about outside. What a frightful storm."

"Yes, perfectly awful. Were you exposed to the worst of it?"

"No, I was here."

He shook his head, smiled, and went into the next room, knowing that
when he returned to unlock his office she was not in the building,
and that he had seen her coming up the railway track. The bustle of
preparation soon began; the baggage wagons thundered up to the
platform, porters called to one another; passengers collected in the
waiting-room, carriages and omnibuses dashed about; then at 2:50 the
long train of north bound cars swept in. With her shawl and basket
in one hand, and the odorous bunches of chrysanthemums clasped in
the other, Beryl stepped upon the platform. She found a seat at an
open window, and made herself comfortable; placing her feet upon the
basket which contained the jewels that constituted her sole earthly
fortune. The bell rang, the train glided on, and as it passed the
office door, she saw the agent watching her, with a strangely
suspicious expression.

The cars wound around a curve, and she sank back and shut her eyes,
rejoicing in the belief that her mission to "Elm Bluff," and its
keen humiliation, were forever ended.




CHAPTER IV.


"I concede that point. Your lover is amply endowed with brains, and
moreover has a vast amount of shrewdness, all that is requisite to
secure success and eminence in his profession; but to-day, it seems
as much a matter of astonishment to me--as it certainly was six
months ago, when first you told me of your engagement--that you, Leo
Gordon, could ever fancy just such a man as Lennox Dunbar."

"I am very sorry, Aunt Patty, that he finds no favor in your eyes,
and I think he is aware of the fact that he is not in your good
graces. You both look so vaguely uncomfortable when thrown into each
other's presence; but for my sake you must try to like Lennox."

Miss Gordon bent her pretty head over a square of ruby velvet,
whereon she was embroidering a wreath of pansies, and the delicate
flush on her fair face, deepened to a vivid carnation.

"My likes or dislikes are a matter of moonshine, in comparison with
your happiness. Because you are an orphan, I feel a sort of
responsibility; and sometimes I am not exactly easy over the account
of my stewardship I must render to my poor dead Marcia. The more I
see of your lover, the more I dread your marriage. A man who makes
no profession of religious belief, is an unsafe guardian of any
woman's peace of mind. You who have been reared almost in the shadow
of the altar, accustomed to hearing grace at your meals, to family
prayers, to strict observance of our ritual, will feel isolated
indeed, when transplanted to the home of a godless man, who rarely
darkens the door of the sanctuary. 'Be ye not unequally yoked
together with unbelievers.'"

Miss Patty Dent took off her spectacles, wiped them with the string
of her white muslin cap, and adjusting them firmly on her nose,
plucked nervously at the fluted lace ruffles around her wrists.

"Auntie, you are scarcely warranted in using such strong language.
Because a man refrains from the public avowal of faith, incident to
church membership, he is not necessarily godless; nor inevitably
devoid of true religious feeling. Mr. Dunbar has a strong, reticent
nature, habituated to repression of all evidences of emotion, but of
the depth and earnestness of his real feeling, I entertain no
doubt."

"I fear your line and plummet will never sound his depth. You often
speak of his strength; but, Leo, hardness is not always strength;
and he is hard, hard. I never saw a man with a chin like his, who
was not tyrannical, and idolatrous of his own will. My dear, such
men are as uncomfortable to live in the same house with, as a smoky
chimney, or a woman with shattered nerves, or creaking doors, or
draughty windows. They are a sort of everlasting east wind that
never veers, blowing always to the one point, attainment of their
own ends, mildewing all else. Ugh!"

Miss Patty shivered, and her companion smiled.

"What a grewsome picture, Auntie dear! Fortunately human taste is as
diverse and catholic as the variety of human countenances. For
example: Clara Morse raves over Mr. Dunbar's 'clear-cut features, so
immensely classical'; and she pronounces his offending 'chin simply
perfect! fit for a Greek God!'"

"A very thin and gauzy partition divides Clara Morse's brains from
idiocy. In my day, all such feeble watery minds as hers were
regarded as semi-imbecile, pitied as intellectual cripples, and
wisely kept in the background of society; but, bless me! in this
generation they skip and prance to the very edge of the front, pose
in indecent garments without starch, or crinoline, or even the
protection of pleats and gathers; and insult good, sound, wholesome
common sense with the sickening affectations they are pleased to
call 'aesthetics.' Don't waste your time, and dilute your own mind
by quoting the silly twaddle of a poor girl who was turned loose too
early on society, who falls on her knees in ecstasies before a
hideous broken-nose tea-pot from some filthy hovel in Japan; and who
would not dare to admire the loveliest bit of Oiron pottery, or
precious old Chelsea claret-colored china in Kensington Museum,
until she had turned it upside down, and hunted the potter's mark
with a microscope. I say Mr. Dunbar has a domineering and tyrannical
chin, and five years hence, if you do not agree with me, it will be
because 'Ephraim is joined to his idols'--clay feet and all."

"Then follow the Bible injunction to 'let him alone.' I see Lennox
through neither Clara's rosy lenses, nor your jaundiced glasses; and
these circular discussions are as fruitless as they are unpleasant.
Let us select some more agreeable topic. I gave you Leighton's
letter. What think you of his scheme?"

"That it is admirable, worthy of the brain that conceived it. What a
wonderful man he is, considering his age? Such a devout and fervent
spirit, and withal such a marvel of executive ability. Ah! happy the
woman who can command his wise guardianship, and renew her
aspirations after holiness, in his spiritual society. I honor, even
more than I love, Leighton Douglass."

"So do I, Aunt Patty. He is quite my ideal pastor, and when he
marries, I hope his wife will be worthy of him in every respect.
Only a very noble woman would suit my cousin."

A bright spot burned on Miss Dent's wrinkled cheek, and she knitted
her brows, and shook her head.

"He is so absorbed in his holy work that he has no leisure for such
trifles as love-making; but if he should ever honor a woman by the
offer of his consecrated hand, it must be one of large fortune, who
will dedicate herself and her money to the accomplishment of his
ecclesiastical schemes."

The corners of Miss Gordon's mouth twitched mutinously, but she
contrived to throw much innocent surprise and questioning into the
handsome brown eyes, which she lifted from her gold-hearted pansies,
to her Aunt's face.

"Could you possibly associate mercenary motives with any step which
he might take? Such a supposition would be totally incompatible with
my estimate of his character."

"When a man dedicates himself to a solemn mission, he is lifted far
above the ordinary plane, can dispense with sentimental
conventionalities, and must learn to regard all human relations as
merely means to an end. Want of money has palsied many an arm lifted
to advance the good of the Church; and zeal without funds,
accomplishes as little as rusty machinery stiff from lack of oil. If
Dr. Douglass could only control even a hundred thousand dollars,
what shining monuments he would leave to immortalize him! Indeed, it
passes my comprehension how persons who could so easily help him,
deliberately turn a deaf ear to the 'cry from Macedonia'."

"There is far more eclat in trips to Macedonia, but the God of
recompense does not forget the steady, tireless help and sympathy
extended to the needy, who dwell within sight of our own doors.
Organized society work is good, but individual self-sacrifice and
labor are much better; and if every unit did full duty, co-operative
systems would not be so necessary; still, Leighton's scheme commends
itself to every woman's heart, and when I answered his letter, I
expressed cordially my approbation."

"Did you prove your faith by your works, and send him a large
check?"

"Auntie, dear, do you expect me to stultify all your training, both
your example and precept--for lo! these many years--by setting my
left hand to gossip about my right? I am very sure."

"Well, Andrew, what is it?"

"A boy from Mr. Dunbar's office has just galloped up, and says I am
to tell you he can't ride to the Falls to-day, as he expected,
because of some pressing business; and he wants to know if the Judge
will come into town right away? Mr. Dunbar will explain when he
comes late this evening."

"Very well. Tell Daniel I shall not want 'Rebel' saddled; and say to
the messenger that my Uncle is not at home. Aunt Patty, do you know
where he has gone?"

"Doubtless to his office; where else should he be? He said he had a
pile of tiresome papers to examine to-day."

Miss Gordon folded up her work, laid it away in a dainty basket
lined with blue satin and flounced with lace; and after pausing a
moment to pet her Aunt's white Maltese cat which lay dozing In the
sunshine, walked away toward a Small hot-house, built quite near the
dining-room, and  connected with it by an arcade, covered in summer
by vines, in winter by glass.

Twenty-four years before that day, when a proud, fond young mother
puffed and tucked the marvel of lace and linen cambric, which was
intended as a christening robe for her baby, and laid it away with
spicery of rose leaves and sachet of lavender and deer tongue, to
wait until a "furlough" allowed the child's father to be present at
the baptism, she had supposed that its delicate folds would one day
adorn a dimpled rosy-faced infant, for whom the name Aurelia Gordon
had long been selected. Fate cruelly vetoed all the details of the
programme, carefully arranged by maternal affection; and the lurid
sun that set in clouds of smoke on one of the most desperate battles
of the Confederacy, saw Colonel Gordon's brave, patriotic soul
released on that long "furlough" which glory granted her heroes; saw
his devoted wife a wailing widow. The red burial of battle had
precluded the solemnization of baptismal rites at the sacred marble
font; and when four days after Colonel Gordon's death, his frail
young wife welcomed the summons to an everlasting re-union, she laid
her cold hands on her baby's golden head, and died, as she
whispered:

"Name her Leo, for her father."

So it came to pass, that the clergyman who read the burial service
beside the mother's coffin, lifted the cooing infant in the midst of
a weeping funeral throng, and with a faltering voice baptized her,
in the presence of the dead, Leo Gordon,

To the care of her sister Patty, and of her widowed brother, Judge
Dent, Mrs. Gordon had consigned her child; and transplanted so early
to her uncle's house, the orphan knew no other home.

When the problem of vast numerical preponderance had solved itself
in accordance with the rules of avoirdupois, and history--fond like
all garrulous old crones of repeating even her inglorious episodes--
had triumphantly inscribed on her bloody tablets, that once more the
Few were throttled and trampled by the Many, then the fabled
"Ragnarok" of the Sagas described only approximately the doom of the
devastated South. In the financial and social chaos that followed
the invasion by "loyal" hordes, rushing under "sealed orders" on the
mission of "Reconstruction," and eminently successful in
"reconstructing" their individual fortunes, an anomaly presented
itself for the consideration of political economists. The wealthy
classes of ante bellum days were the most destitute paupers that the
newly-risen Union sun shone upon.

The French Revolution and its subsequent eruptions of Communism
failed to destroy the value of land; and the emancipation of Russian
serfs may have stimulated agricultural activity, but that political
and social Communism which the Pandora of "reconstruction" let loose
throughout the conquered States of the South, accomplished all that
the victors could have desired.

Abandoned by the laborers God had fitted to endure toil under
climatic conditions peculiar to the soil, vast silent fields of
weeds stared blankly, and the richer a man found himself in
ancestral acres, the more hopelessly was he manacled by taxes.
"Reconstructionists" most thoroughly inoculated with "Loyal" rabies,
held in lofty disdain the claims of widows and orphans, and the
right of minors was as dead as that of secession. In the general
maelstrom, Colonel Gordon's large estate went to pieces; but after a
time, Judge Dent took lessons from his new political masters in the
science of wrecking, and by degrees, as fragments and shreds
stranded, he collected and secreted them. Certain mining interests
were protected, and some valuable plantations in distant sugar
belts, were secured. As guardian of his sister's daughter, he
changed, or renewed investments in stocks which rapidly increased in
value, until an unusually large fortune had accumulated: and
verifying figures justified his boast, that his niece and ward was
the wealthiest heiress in the State.

Reared in a household which consisted of an elderly uncle and aunt,
and a middle-aged governess, Leo Gordon had never known intimate
association with younger people; and while her nature was gentle and
tranquil, she gradually imbibed the grave and rather prim ideas
which were in vogue when Miss Patty was the reigning belle of her
county. Although petted and indulged, she had not been spoiled, and
remained singularly free from the selfishness usually developed in
the character of an only child, nurtured in the midst of mature
relatives. When eighteen years old, Leo, accompanied by her
governess, Mrs. Eldridge, had been sent to New York and Boston for
educational advantages, which it was supposed that her own section
of the country could not supply; and subsequently the two went
abroad, gleaning knowledge in the great centres of European Art.
During their sojourn in Munich, Mrs. Eldridge died after a very
brief illness; and returning to her southern home, Leo found herself
the object of social homage.

Thoroughly well-bred, accomplished, graceful and pretty, she
commanded universal admiration; yet her manner was marked by a
quiet, grave dignity, and a peculiar reticence, at variance with the
prevailing type of young ladyhood, now alas! too dominant; whose
premature emancipation from home rule, and old-fashioned canons of
decorum renders "American girlhood" synonymous with flippant
pertness. Moulded by two women who were imbued with the spirit of
Richter's admonition: "Girls like the priestesses of old, should be
educated only in sacred places, and never hear, much less see, what
is rude, immoral or violent"; the pate tendre of Leo's character
showed unmistakably the potter's marks.

She shrewdly surmised that the knowledge of her unusual wealth
contributed to swell the number of her suitors, and she was twenty-
four years old when Lennox Dunbar, for whom she had long secretly
cherished a partiality, succeeded in placing his ring on her fair,
slender hand. In character they differed widely, and the deep and
tender love that filled her heart, found only a faint echo in his
cold and more selfish nature, which had carefully calculated all the
advantages derivable from this alliance.

He cordially admired and esteemed his brown-eyed fair-haired
fiancee, considered her the personification of feminine refinement
and delicacy; and congratulated himself warmly on his great good
fortune in winning her affection; but tender emotions found little
scope for exercise in his intensely practical, busy life, which was
devoted to the attainment of eminence in his profession; and the
merely dynamic apparatus which did duty as his heart, had never been
disturbed by any feeling sufficiently deep to quicken his calm,
steady pulse.

There were times, when Leo wondered whether all accepted lovers were
as undemonstrative as her own, and she would have been happier had
he occasionally forgotten professional aspirations, in the charm of
her presence; but her confidence in the purity and fidelity of his
affection was unshaken, even by the dismal predictions of Miss
Patty, who found it impossible to reconcile herself to the failure
of her darling scheme, that Leo should marry her second cousin,
Leighton Douglass, D.D., and devote her fortune to the advancement
of his church.

To-day, as she sought pleasant work in arranging the ferns and
carnations of her conservatory, her thoughts reverted to the
previous evening, which Mr. Dunbar had spent with her; and she could
not avoid indulging regret, that he should have allowed business
affairs to interfere with their engagement for horseback riding, but
her reverie was speedily interrupted by the excited tones of her
aunt's voice.

"Leo! Leo! Where do you hide yourself?"

"Here, Auntie, in the conservatory."

"Oh! my child, such dreadful news! Such a frightful tragedy!"

Pale and panting, Miss Patty ran down the arcade, and stumbled over
a barricade of potted plants on the threshold of the door.

"What is the matter? Is it my Uncle, or--or Lennox?"

Leo sprang to her feet, and caught her aunt's arm.

"Horrible! horrible! General Darrington was robbed, and then most
brutally murdered last night!"

"Murdered! Can it be possible? Murdered--by whom?"

"How should I know? The whole town is wild about it. My brother is
at Elm Bluff, with the body, and I shall take the carriage and drive
over there at once. Dear me; I am so nervous I can't stand still,
and my teeth chatter like a pair of castanets."

"Perhaps there may be some mistake. How did you hear it?"

"Your Uncle Mitchell sent a boy to tell me why he was detained.
There has been a coroner's inquest, and of course, as an old and
intimate friend of General Darrington's, Mitchell feels he must do
all he can. Poor old gentleman! So proud and aristocratic! To be
murdered in his own house, like any common pauper! Positively it
makes me sick. May the Lord have mercy on his soul."

"Amen!" murmured Leo.

"Will you go with me to Elm Bluff?"

"Oh, no! Not for worlds. Why should I? Women will only be in the
way; and who could desire to contemplate so horrible a spectacle? It
will merely harrow your feelings, Aunt Patty, and you can do no
good."

"It is my Christian duty as a neighbor; and I was always very fond
of the first Mrs. Darrington, Helena Tracey. What is this wicked
world coming to? Robbery and murder stalking bare-faced through the
land. It will be a dreadful blow to Mitchell, because he and Luke
Darrington have been intimate all their lives. I see the carriage
coming round, so I must get my bonnet and wrap."

"I presume Mr. Dunbar is engaged in the same melancholy details
which occupy my uncle."

"Doubtless he is, because his father was General Darrington's
attorney until his health failed; and Lennox is now his lawyer and
business agent. It is a thousand pities that Prince is away in
Europe."

Two hours after the carriage had disappeared on the road leading to
Elm Bluff, Leo crossed the grassy lawn, and sat down near the gate,
on a rustic bench under a cluster of tall lilacs, which gave their
name to her uncle's home.

A keen north wind whistling through neighboring walnut tree tops,
drove the dying leaves like frightened flocks before it, and ever
and anon the ripened nuts pattered down, hiding themselves under the
drift of yellow foliage, that had sheltered them in cool greenery
during summer heats. Overhead a red squirrel barked and frisked, and
across the pale-blue sky, feathered nomads, teal or mallard, moved
swiftly en echelon, their quivering pinions flashing like silver, as
they fled southward. On a distant hillside cattle browsed, and sheep
wandered; and the drowsy tinkle of bells, as the herd wended
homeward, seemed a nocturne of rest, for the closing day.

How serene, harmonious and holy all nature appeared; and yet a few
miles distant, into what a fierce seething whirlpool of conflicting
passions, of hatred and bloodthirsty vengeance, had human crime
plunged an entire community. We plume ourselves upon nineteenth
century civilization, upon ethical advancement, upon Christian
progress; we adorn our cathedrals, build temples for art treasures,
and museums for science, and listen to preludes of the "music of the
future;" and we shudder at the mention of vice, as at the
remembrance of the tortures of Regulus, but will the Cain type ever
become extinct, like the dodo, or the ichthyosaurus? When will the
laws of heredity, and the by-laws of agnation result in an altruism,
where human bloodshed is an unknown horror?

The apostles of Evolution tell us, that in the genealogical ages
during which man has struggled upward, from the lower stages of
vertebrate and mammal to the genus of catarrhine apes, he has
gradually thrown off bestial instincts, and that the tiger taint
will ultimately be totally eliminated; that "original sin is neither
more nor less than the brute inheritance which every man carries
with him, and that Evolution is an advance toward true salvation."
Meanwhile what becomes of the "Survival of the Fittest", which is
only a euphemism for the strangling of the feeble by the strong? We
can understand how perfection, or permanence of type, individual and
national, demands carnage, and entails all the dire catalogue of
human woes, but wherein is altruism evolved? How many aeons shall we
wait, to behold the leopard and the lamb pasturing together in
peace?

Pondering this problem, as he rode along the public road outside the
boundary of Judge Dent's lawn, Mr. Dunbar caught a glimpse of his
betrothed, sitting behind the hedge of lilacs, and he lifted his
hat, hoping that she would meet him at the entrance; but although
she bowed in recognition, he was forced to open the gate and admit
himself. Throwing the bridle rein over one of the iron spikes of the
fence, and taking off his gloves, he approached the bench.

"Dare I flatter myself, that my queen deigns to meet me half way?"

He took her outstretched hand, and kissed it softly, while his
glance noted every detail of her handsome fawn-colored dress, with
its jabot of creamy lace, and the cluster of crimson carnations in
her belt. The touch of his lips on her fingers, deepened the flush
in her cheeks, and, making room for him beside her, she replied:

"Sit down, and tell me if this dreadful news about General
Darrington be indeed true? I have hoped there might be some mistake,
some exaggeration."

"Some horrors exceed the possibility of verbal exaggeration, and
last night's tragedy is one of that class. General Darrington was
most brutally murdered."

"Poor old gentleman! How incredible it seems that such awful crimes
can be committed in our quiet neighborhood? who could have been so
guilty; and what motive could have prompted such a fiendish act?"

"The one all-powerful evil passion of mankind--greed of gold; lust
of filthy lucre. He was first robbed, then murdered by the thief, to
avoid detection and punishment. There is unmistakable evidence that
the General was chloroformed while asleep; but he must have awakened
in time to discover the robber, with whom he struggled desperately,
and by whom he was struck down. The coroner's inquest developed some
startling facts."

"Has any clue been discovered which would indicate the murderer?"

"A handful of clues."

"Then you have a theory concerning the person who perpetrated this
awful crime?"

"My dear Leo, not a theory, but a conviction; I might almost say an
absolute knowledge."

"Would it be pardonable for me to ask whom you suspect; would it be
a violation of professional etiquette for you to tell me?"

"Certainly, my dearest, you can ask me anything, only--" he paused a
moment; and she put her hand quickly on his arm.

"I see. Do not tell me mere suspicions; they might cruelly wrong an
innocent person; and I ought not to have asked the question."

"My hesitation arose from a totally different source, and I was
merely wondering whether you, my sweet saint, could believe that a
woman committed the bloody deed."

"Oh, Mr. Dunbar, impossible! A woman guilty of taking that old man's
life? The supposition is as horrible as the crime itself."

Passing his hand lightly over her crimped fair hair, and looking
down into her eyes, as brown as the back of a thrush, her lover
replied:

"I find that the nobler and purer a woman's heart is, the less she
credits the existence of vice and the possibility of crime among her
own sex. You doubtless consider the Brinvilliers, Fredegonds,
Fulvias and Faustinas, quite as fabulous as Centaurs, Sirens and
Were-wolves; and I feel as reluctant to shake your fair faith in
womanhood, as to dash the dew from a rose-bud, or rudely brush the
bloom a cluster of tempting grapes; but the grim truth must be told,
that our old friend was robbed and murdered by a woman."

"One of his servants? They all seemed devotedly attached to him."

"No, by his granddaughter, a young and very beautiful woman; Beryl
Brentano, the child of General Darrington's daughter Ellice, whom he
had disowned on account of her wretched marriage with a foreigner,
who taught her music and the languages. Of course you have heard
from your aunt and uncle all the details of that family episode.
Yesterday this girl Beryl suddenly presented herself at Elm Bluff,
and demanded money from her grandfather; alleging that her mother's
life was in danger for want of it. I learn there was a stormy
interview, part of the conversation having been overheard by two
persons; and the General, who was as vindictive as a Modoc, or a
Cossack, drove the young lady through a door leading down to the
rosery. This occurred in the afternoon, immediately after I left Elm
Bluff, where I went to obtain his signature to a deed to some lands
recently sold in Texas. I saw the girl sitting on the front steps,
and when she rose and looked at me, her superb physique impressed me
powerfully. She is as beautiful and stately as some goddess stepping
out of the Norse 'Edda', and altogether a remarkable looking person.
It will appear in evidence, that the General harshly refused her
pleadings, and made a point of assuring her that his will, already
prepared, would forever debar her mother and herself from any
inheritance at his death; as he had bequeathed his entire estate to
his adopted son Prince. Unfortunately, she learned where the will
was kept, as during the interview, persons in the next room
distinctly heard the peculiar noise made by the sliding door of the
iron vault, where General Darrington kept all his valuable papers.
She disappeared from Elm Bluff about sunset, going toward town; and
last night at ten o'clock, when I left you and rode home, I saw her
lurking in the pine woods not very far from the bridge over the
branch, near the park gate. She was evidently hiding, as she sat on
the ground half screened by a tree; but my horse shied and plunged
badly, and when she rose, the full moon showed her face and figure
distinctly. There was something so mysterious in her movements, that
I asked her if she had lost her way; to which she curtly replied
that she had not. I learn from Burk, the station agent, that her
actions aroused his suspicion, and that instead of leaving town, as
she said she intended, by the 7:15 train, she hung about the
station, and finally took the 3:05 express this morning. He said she
had begged permission to stay in the waiting-room, but that at 2:30
A.M., when he went back to open the ticket office, she was nowhere
to be found; and that later, he saw her coming down the railroad
track. She must have gone back to Elm Bluff after I passed her on
the road, and effected an entrance through the window on the front
piazza, as it was found open; and the awful work of robbery and
murder was accomplished during the storm, which you know was so
frightful that it drowned all minor sounds. This morning when the
General did not ring for his hot water at the usual time, it was
supposed that he was sleeping late, but finally old Bedney knocked.
Unable to arouse his master, he opened the door, and found our old
friend lying on the floor, near the fireplace. He had been dead for
hours, and close to his head was a heavy brass andiron, which
evidently had been snatched from the hearth by the murderess, who
must have dealt the fatal blow with it, as there was a dark spot on
his temple, and also on the left side near the heart. The room was
in disorder, and two glass vases on the mantel were shivered, as
though some missile had struck them--probably a heavy ledger which
was found on the floor."

"How horrible! But no woman could have overpowered a man like
General Darrington."

"Physically, his granddaughter was more than a match for him,
especially since his last illness; and I assure you she looks like
some daughter of the Vikings. She certainly is a woman of grand
proportions, and wonderfully symmetrical."

"What is her age?"

"About eighteen, I should think; though her size and a certain
majestic bearing might convey the impression that she was older."

"How can you connect so dreadful a crime with a young and beautiful
woman, of whom you know absolutely nothing?"

"My theory is, that she intended merely to get possession of the
will, the contents of which had been made known to her--and of the
money, that she knew or surmised was kept in the vault. When the
effect of the chloroform wore off, and the General waked to find her
at the vault; a struggle evidently took place, and in desperation at
the thought of being detected, she killed him. You do not understand
all the bearings of even slight circumstances in a case like this,
but we who make a study of such sad matters, know the significance
of the disappearance of the will; the destruction of which could
benefit only her mother and herself. The vault was open; the gold,
silver, some valuable jewelry, and the will are missing from the tin
box. All the other papers were left, even a package of bonds,
amounting to thousands of dollars. She seemed to know that the bonds
might lead to detection, hence she did not take them. On the floor,
and in the bottom of the tin box were found two twenty-dollar gold
pieces. We are collecting all the evidence, and it constitutes a
powerful array of proof."

"We? Do you mean that you are hunting down a woman?"

Miss Gordon withdrew her hand from her lover's, and instinctively
moved farther from him.

"I am most diligently hunting down the author of a foul and awful
crime; and it is my duty to my friend and client to use every
possible exertion, in discovering and bringing to punishment the
person who robbed and murdered him--be it man, woman or child.
Feminine youth and beauty are no aegis against the barbed javelins
of justice and the District Solicitor (Mr. Churchill) and I, have no
doubt of the guilt of the woman, who will soon be put on trial here
for her monstrous and unnatural crime."




CHAPTER V.


In a deep, narrow "railway cut," through Virginia hills, a south-
bound freight train had been so badly wrecked in consequence of a
"washout," that the southern passenger express going north was
detained fourteen hours; thereby missing connection at Washington
City, where the passengers were again delayed nearly twelve hours.
Tired and very hungry, having eaten nothing but a sandwich and a cup
of coffee for three days, Beryl felt profoundly thankful when the
cars rolled into Jersey City. In the bustle and confusion incident
to arrival in that Babel, she did not observe the scrutiny to which
she was subjected by a man genteelly dressed, who gave her his hand
as she stepped down from the train, and kept by her side while she
hastened in the direction of the ferry.

Reaching the slip where the boat awaited passengers, she was vexed
to see it backing out into the stream, and leaned against the chain
which barred egress until the next trip.

"You have only five minutes to wait for the boat. You seem to have
had a long and trying journey, madam?"

Glancing at him for the first time, Beryl perceived that he held a
slip of yellow paper from which he looked now and then to her face.
His features were coarse and heavy, but his eyes were keen as a
ferret's; and without answering his question, she turned away and
looked across the water which teemed with craft of every
description, laden with freight animate and inanimate, passing to
and from the vast city, whose spires, domes and forest of masts rose
like a gray cloud against the sky, etching there their leaden
outlines.

"You live at No.--West--Street, between 8th and 9th Avenue?"

"You are a stranger, and your questions are offensive and
impertinent."

As she turned and confronted him haughtily, he stepped closer to
her, threw back his blue overcoat, and pointed to the metal badge on
his breast.

"I am an officer of the law, and have a warrant for your arrest. You
are Beryl Brentano."

"I am Beryl Brentano, yes; but there is some blunder, some mistake.
How dare you annoy me? Arrest me? Me!"

"Do not make a scene. My instructions are to deal with you as gently
as possible. Better come quietly into the station near, and I will
read you the warrant, otherwise I shall be obliged to use force. You
see I have two assistants yonder."

"Arrested for what? By whom?"

"I am ordered to arrest you for the murder of General Darrington."

"Murder! General Darrington is alive and well. I have just left him.
Stand back! Do not touch me. I will call on the police to protect
me."

Laying his fingers firmly on her arm, he beckoned to two men clad in
police uniform, who promptly approached.

"You see resistance is worse than useless, and since there is no
escape, come quietly."

"You are insulting me, under some frightful mistake. I am a lady. Do
I look like a criminal?"

"General Darrington has been robbed and murdered, and I have
telegraphic orders to arrest and hold a woman named Beryl Brentano,
who corresponds in every respect with the description of the person
suspected of having committed the crime."

Hitherto she had attributed the insult of the interview to some
question of mistaken identity, but as she slowly comprehended the
possibility that she was the person accused, and intended for
arrest, a sickening horror seized and almost paralyzed her,
blanching her face and turning her to stone. As he led her along the
street, she staggered from the numbness that possessed her, and her
eyes stared blankly, like those of a somnambulist. When she had been
ushered into a room where several policemen were lounging and
smoking, the intolerable sense of shame and indignation shook off
her apathy.

"This is a cruel and outrageous wrong, and only base cowards could
wantonly insult an unprotected and innocent woman. You call
yourselves men? Have you no mothers, no sisters, whose memory can
arouse some reverence, some respect for womanhood in your brutal
souls?"

Electric lamps set in the sockets of some marble face, might perhaps
resemble the blaze that leaped up in her eyes, as she wrenched her
arm from the officer's profaning touch, and her voice rang like the
clash of steel.

"Madam, we are allowed no discretion; we are only the blind and deaf
machines that obey orders. Read the warrant, and you will understand
that our duty is imperative."

Again and again she read the paper, in which the sheriff of the
county where Elm Bluff is situated, demanded her arrest and return
to X---, on the charge of robbery and murder committed during the
night which she had spent at the station. Then several telegrams
were placed before her. The description of herself, her dress, even
of the little basket and shawl, was minutely accurate; and by
degrees the horror of her situation, and her utter helplessness,
became frightfully distinct. The papers fell from her nerveless
fingers, and one desperate cry broke from her white lips:

"O just God! Will you permit such a shameful, cruel outrage? Save me
from this horrible injustice and disgrace!"

Seeing neither the men, nor the room, her strained gaze seemed in
her great agony fixed upon the face of Him, who, silvering the
lilies of the field and watching the flight of sparrows, has tender
care for all who trust Him. Even in this terrible trial, the girl's
first thought was of her mother; and of the disastrous effect that
the misfortune would produce upon the invalid.

"I am sorry to tell you, that we are required to search all persons
arrested under similar charges, and in the next room a female
detective will receive and retain every thing in your possession,
except your clothing. You are suspected of having secreted money,
jewelry and some very valuable papers."

"Suspected of being a common thief! I am as innocent as any angel
beside the throne of Christ! Save me at least from the degradation
of being searched. Here is my basket, and here is my purse."

She handed him the worn leather pocket-book, which contained only
the few pennies reserved to pay her passage across the ferry, and
turned the pocket of her dress inside cut.

At the tap of a hand-bell, a tall, angular woman opened the door of
an adjoining room.

"Mrs. Foster, you will very carefully examine the prisoner, and
search her clothing for papers, as well as valuables."

"Spare me at least this indignity!" cried the shuddering girl.

"Come with me, madam. We have no choice."

When the door closed behind her, the constable walked up and down
the floor.

"How deceitful appearances are! That woman looks as pure and
innocent as an angel, and I half believed her protestations; but
here in the basket, sure enough, hidden at the bottom, are the
jewelry and the gold. No sign of the papers, but she may have
destroyed them.

"Thief or not, she is a grand beauty; and if her heart was not in
that prayer she put up just now, she is a grand actress also. This
is a beastly trade of ours, hunting down and trapping the unwary.
Sometimes I feel no better than a sleuth-hound, and that girl's eyes
went through and through me a while ago like a two-edged dirk."

As he vented his views of his profession, one of the policemen
lighted his pipe and puffed vigorously.

Mrs. Foster came back, followed by her victim.

"I find absolutely nothing secreted on the prisoner."

"No papers of any description?"

"None, sir."

"Madam, your basket contains the missing jewelry and money, at least
a portion of it, and I shall place it in the hands of the sheriff."

"The money and jewels are not mine. They belong to my mother, to
whom they were given by her father; and she needs the money at this
moment--"

"Let me advise you to say as little as possible for your own sake;
because your words will be weighed against you."

"I speak only the truth, and it will, it must, vindicate me. What
papers are you searching for?"

"General Darrington's will. It was stolen with the money. Here is
yesterday's paper, with an account of the whole affair, telegraphed
from X----. If you need to learn anything, you will understand when
you read it."

The sight of the capital letters in the Telegraphic Despatches,
coupling her name with a heinous and revolting crime, seemed to stab
her eyes with red-hot thrusts; and shivering from head to foot, she
slowly realized the suspicious significance of the disappearance of
the will, which was the sole obstacle that debarred her from her
grandfather's wealth. Although sustained by an unfaltering trust in
the omnipotence of innocence, she was tormented by a dread spectre
that would not "down" at her bidding; how could she prove that the
money and jewels had been given to her? Would the shock of the
tidings of her arrest kill her mother? Was there any possible way by
which she might be kept in ignorance of this foul disgrace?

Beryl hid her face in her hands, and tried to think, but the whole
universe appeared spinning into chaos. She had opposed the trip
South so steadily and vehemently: had so sorrowfully and reluctantly
yielded at last to maternal solicitation, and had been oppressed
with such dire forebodings of some resultant evil. So bitter was her
repugnance to the application to her grandfather, that she had set
out on her journey feeling as though it were a challenge to fate;
and this was the answer? The vague distrust, the subtle sombre
presentiment, the haunting shadow of an inexplicable ill, had all
meant this; this bloody horror, dragging her fair name down to the
loathsome mire of the slums of crime. Had some merciful angel leaned
from the parapets of heaven and warned her; or did her father's
spirit, in mysterious communion of deathless love and prescient
guardianship, stir her soul to oppose her mother's scheme? Sceptical
and heedless Tarquins are we all, whom our patient Sibylline
intuitions finally abandon to the woes which they sought to avert.

In the maddening rush and whirl of Beryl's reflections, her mother's
image was the one centre around which all things circled; and at
length, rallying her energies, she turned to her captor.

"You intend to take me to prison?"

"I am obliged to detain and deliver you to the officer who has come
from X---with the warrant, and who will carry you back there for
trial. He knew from the detentions along the route, that he could
easily overhaul you here, so he went straight to Trenton with a
requisition from the Governor of his State upon Governor Mansfield,
for your surrender. It is but a short run to the Capital, and he
expects to get here in time to catch the train going South to-day.
We had a telegram a while ago, saying the papers were all right, and
that he would meet us at the train, as there will be only a few
moments to spare."

"But I must first see my mother. I must give her the money and
explain--"

"The money will be claimed by the officer who takes charge of you."

"Have you no mercy? My mother is ill, destitute; and she will die
unless I can go to her. Oh! I beg of you, for the sake of common
humanity, carry me home, if only for five minutes! Just let me see
mother, let me speak to her!"

In the intensity of her dread, she fell upon her knees, and lifted
her hands imploringly; and the anguish in her white quivering face
was so piteous that the man turned his head away.

"I would oblige you if I could, but it is impossible. The law is
cruel, as you say, but it is intended as a terror to evil-doers.
Things look awfully black for you, but all the same I am sorry for
you, if your mother is to suffer for your deeds. If you wish to
write to her, I will see that she receives your note; but you have
very little time left."

"O God! how hard! What a foul, horrible wrong inflicted upon the
innocent!"

She cowered on the floor, unconscious that she still knelt; seeing
only the suffering woman in that dreary attic across the river,
where sunken feverish eyes watched for her return.

Accidentally Beryl's gaze fell on the bunch of faded chrysanthemums
which had dropped unnoticed on the floor, and snatching them she
buried her face in their petals. Their perfume was the potent spell
that now melted her to tears, and the tension of her overtaxed
nerves gave way in a passionate burst of sobs. When she rose a few
moments later, the storm had passed; the face regained its stony
rigidity, and henceforth she fronted fate with an unnatural
calmness.

"Will you give me some paper and a pen?"

"You can write here at the desk."

Mrs. Foster approached her, and said hesitatingly:

"Would it comfort you at all, for me to go and see your mother and
explain why you could not return to her? I am very sorry for you,
poor thing."

"Thank you, but--you could not explain, and the sight of a stranger
would startle her. In one way you can help me; do you know Dr.
Grantlin of New York?"

"Only by reputation; but I can find him."

"Will you deliver into his hand the note I am writing?"

"I certainly will."

"How soon?"

"Before nine o'clock to-night."

"Thank you--a thousand times."

After a while she folded a sheet containing these words:

"DEAR DR. GRANTLIN:

"In the extremity of my distress, I appeal to you as a Christian
gentleman, as a true physician, a healer of the suffering, and under
God, the guardian of my mother's life. You know why I went to my
grandfather. He gave me the money, one hundred dollars, and some
valuable jewels. When in sight of home, I have been arrested on the
charge of having murdered my grandfather, and stolen his will. Need
I tell you that I am as innocent as you are? The thought of my
mother is the bitterest drop in my cup of shame and sorrow. You can
judge best, how much it may be expedient to tell her, and you can
devise the kindest method of breaking the truth, if she must know
it. Have her removed to the hospital, and do not postpone the
operation. O Doctor! be pitiful, be tender to her, and do not let
her need any little comforts. Some day I will pay you for all
expenses incurred in her behalf, but at present I have not a dollar,
as the money has been seized. I am sure you will not deny my prayer,
and may God reward and bless you, for your mercy to my precious
mother.

"In grateful trust,

"BERYL BRENTANO.

"P.S.--If you approve, deliver the enclosed note."

On a separate sheet she wrote:

"MY DARLING MOTHER:

"Finding it necessary to return to X---, I have requested Dr.
Grantlin to take particularly good care of you for a few days. Your
father will never forgive, never receive you, but he kindly complied
with your request and gave me one hundred dollars. Try to be patient
until I can come and tell you everything, and believe that God will
not forsake us. With these hurried lines, I send you a few
chrysanthemums--your favorite flowers--which I gathered in the rose
garden of your old home. When you smell them, think of your little
girl who loves you better than her own life, and who will hasten
home at the earliest possible moment, to take you in her arms.
Mother, pray for me, and may God be very merciful to you, my
dearest, and to--

"Your devoted child,

"BERYL."

She had bound the withered flowers together with a strip of fringe
from her shawl, and now, with dry eyes and firm white lips, she
kissed them twice, pinned the last note around them and laid the
whole in Mrs. Foster's hand.

"I trust you to deliver them in person to Dr. Grantlin before you
sleep to-night; and if I survive this awful outrage, perpetrated
under the name of law, I will find you some day, and thank you."

Looking at the lovely face, pure in its frozen calm, as some marble
lily in the fingers of a monumental effigy, Mrs. Foster felt the
tears dimming her own vision and said earnestly:

"Keep as silent as possible. The less you say, the safer you will
be; and run no risk of contradicting your own statements."

"I appreciate your motive, but I have nothing to conceal."

Beryl laid her hand on her shawl, then drew back.

"Am I allowed the use of my shawl?"

"Oh, certainly, madam."

The officer would have opened and put it around her, but with an
indescribable movement of proud repulsion, she shook it out, then
wrapped it closely about her, and sat down, keeping her eyes fixed
on the face of the clock ticking over the fireplace. After a long
and profound silence, the man who had arrested her, said gravely and
gently:

"Time is up. I must deliver you to Officer Gibson at the train. Come
with me."

She rose, gave her hand to Mrs. Foster, and stooping suddenly
touched with her lips the withered flowers, then followed silently.

In subsequent years, when she attempted to recall consecutively the
incidents of the ensuing forty-eight hours, they eluded her, like
the flitting phantasmagoria that throng delirium; yet subtle links
fastened the details upon her brain, and sometimes most
unexpectedly, that psychic necromancer--association of ideas--
selected some episode from the sombre kaleidoscope of this dismal
journey, and set it in lurid light before her, as startling and
unwelcome as the face of an enemy long dead. Life and personality
partook in some degree of duality; all that she had been before she
saw Elm Bluff, seemed a hopelessly distinct existence, yet
irrevocably chained to the mutilated and blackened Afterward, like
the grim and loathsome unions enforced by the Noyades of Nantes.

The sun did not forget to shine, nor the moon to keep her
appointment with the throbbing stars that signalled all along her
circuit. Men whistled, children laughed; the train thundered through
tunnels, and flew across golden stubble fields, where grain shocks
and hay stacks crowded like tents of the God of plenty, in the
Autumnal bivouac; and throughout the long days and dreary lagging
nights. Beryl was fully conscious of a ceaseless surveillance, of an
ever-present shadow, which was tall and gaunt, wore a drab overcoat
and slouched hat, and was redolent of tobacco. As silent as two
mummies in the crypts of Karnac they sat side by side; and twice
when the officer touched her arm and asked if she would take some
refreshments, she merely shook her head, and tightened the folds of
her veil; shrinking closer to the window against which she leaned.
Not until they approached X---, and she recognized some features of
the landscape, were her lips unsealed:

"What persons are responsible for my arrest?"

"Our District Solicitor, Mr. Churchill, and Mr. Dunbar, the lawyer,
who made the affidavit under which the warrant was issued. I am only
a deputy, acting under orders from the sheriff."

"You are taking me to prison?"

"Perhaps not; it depends on the result of the preliminary
examination, and you may be allowed bail."

A ray of hope silvered the shrouding gloom; there was a possibility
of escaping the stain of incarceration.

"When will the examination take place?"

"About noon to-day. You will have time to eat something and freshen
up a little. Here we are. What a crowd to welcome us! Don't stir. We
will just wait a while, and I will get you into a carriage as
quietly as possible."

He whispered some directions to the conductor of the train, and
standing in the aisle with his arm across the seat, screened her
from the gaze of a motley crew of men and boys who rushed in to
stare at the prisoner, whose arrival had been impatiently expected.
On the railway platform and about the station house surged a sea of
human heads, straining now in the direction of the first passenger
coach; and when in answer to some question, the conductor pointed to
the sleeping car which was at the rear of the train, the mass swayed
down the track.

"Quick! Now is our time!"

The deputy sheriff hurried her out, almost lifted her from the
steps, and pushing her forward, turned a corner of the street, and
handed her into a carriage which awaited them.




CHAPTER VI.


To Beryl many hours seemed to have crept away, since she had been
left alone in a small dusty apartment, adjoining the office where
the chief magistrate of X---daily held court. Too restless to sit
still, she paced up and down the floor, trying to collect her
thoughts, and at last knelt by the side of a table, and laid her
weight of dread and peril before the Throne of the God she trusted.
The Father of the fatherless and Friend of the friendless, would
surely protect her in this hour of intolerable degradation.

"O, Thou that hearest prayer; unto Thee shall all flesh come."

The door opened, and a venerable, gray-haired man approached the
table, where her head was bent upon her crossed arms. When she
lifted her white face, with the violet circles under her dry eyes,
making them appear preternaturally large and luminous, and the
beautiful mouth contracted by a spasm of intense pain, a deep sigh
of compassion passed the stranger's lips.

"I am Mitchell Dent, an old friend of General Darrington's, and of
your mother, who has often sat upon my knee. Because of my affection
for your grandfather, I have asked permission to see you for a few
moments. If you are unjustly accused, I desire to befriend you, and
offer you some advice. I am told you assert your innocence of the
great crime of which you are suspected. I hope you can prove it; but
for your own sake I advise you to waive an examination, and await
the action of the Grand Jury, as you have had no opportunity of
consulting counsel, or preparing your defence."

"You knew my mother? Then you should require no other proof that her
child is not a criminal. I am innocent of every offence against
General Darrington, except that of being my father's daughter; and
my unjustifiable arrest is almost as foul a wrong as his murder."

She drew herself proudly to her full height, and as his eyes dwelt
in irrepressible admiration upon her, his manhood did homage to her
grace and dignity, and he took off his hat.

"I earnestly hope so; and the law holds every person innocent until
her guilt be fully proved and established."

"Of the significance of law terms I know nothing; and of the usages
of courts I am equally ignorant. If, as you suggest, I should waive
an examination, should I escape imprisonment?"

"No."

"Then I must be tried at once; because I want to hurry back to my
mother who is ill, and needs me."

"But you have no counsel as yet, and delay is your best policy."

"Delay might cost my mother's life. I have no money to pay a lawyer
to stand up and mystify matters, and my best policy is to defend
myself, by telling the simple truth."

Again Judge Dent sighed. Could guilt be masked by this fair
semblance of childlike guilelessness?

"Can you summon any witnesses to prove that you were not at Elm
Bluff on the night of the storm?"

"Yes, the ticket agent knows I was in the waiting-room during that
storm."

He shook his gray head.

"He will be one of the strongest witnesses against you."

"Then I have no witnesses except--God, and my conscience."

The door opened, and with his watch in his hand the deputy sheriff
entered.

"Sorry to shorten your interview, Judge, but you know we have a
martinet in yonder, a regular Turk, and he splits seconds into
fractions."

As Judge Dent withdrew, Beryl realized that her hour of woe had
arrived, and she began to pin her veil tightly over her face.

"Come along--You can't keep your veil on. Try to be as non-committal
as possible when they ask you crooked questions. Of course I want
justice done, and I hope I am a faithful servant of the law; but if
you are as innocent as a flock of ring-doves, the lawyers will try
to confuse you."

He attempted to lead her, but she drew back.

"I will follow you; but please do not hold my arm; do not touch me."

A moment later, a door opened and closed, a glare of light showed
her a crowded room; a monotonous hum like the swell of the sea fell
on her ear; then stifled ejaculations, to which succeeded a sudden,
deathlike hush. The officer placed a chair for her in front of the
platform where the magistrate sat, and retired to the rear of the
room. With some difficulty Judge Dent made his way through the
throng of spectators, and seated himself beside Mr. Dunbar.

"Well, sir, how did the prisoner impress you?" asked the latter, as
he folded up a paper.

"Dunbar, you have made a mistake. I have spent the best of my life
in the study of criminals; and if that woman yonder is not innocent,
I am in my dotage."

"Pardon me, Judge, if I dispute both propositions. I made no
mistake; and you are merely, in the goodness of your heart, and the
fervor of your chivalry, dazzled momentarily by the glamour of
extraordinary beauty and touching youth."

When Beryl recovered in some degree from the shock of finding
herself actually on trial, she endeavored to collect her faculties;
but the violent palpitation of her heart was almost suffocating, and
in her ears the surging as of an ocean tide, drowned the accents of
the magistrate. At first the words were as meaningless as some
Sanskrit formula, but gradually her attention grasped and
comprehended. In a strident incisive voice he read from a paper on
the desk before him:

"At an inquisition held at X---, T---county, on the twenty-seventh
day of October, before me, Jeremiah Bateman, Coroner of said county,
on the body of Robert Luke Darrington, there lying dead, by the
jurors whose names are hereto subscribed; the said jurors upon their
oath do say that Robert Luke Darrington came to his death on the
night of Thursday, October twenty-sixth, by a murderous assault
committed upon him by means of a heavy brass andiron. And from all
the evidence brought before them, the jury believe that the fatal
blow was feloniously given by the hand of his granddaughter, Beryl
Brentano.

"In testimony whereof, the said jurors have hereunto set their
hands, this twenty-seventh day of October, A.D., 18--.

"Signed------

"Attest,

"JEREMIAH BATEMAN, Coroner."

"In consequence of this verdict, and by virtue of a warrant issued
at the request of the District Solicitor, Governor Glenbeigh made a
prompt requisition for the arrest and detention of the said Beryl
Brentano, who has been identified and returned to this city, to
answer the charges brought against her. The prisoner will unveil and
stand up.

"Beryl Brentano, you are charged with the murder of Robert Luke
Darrington, by striking him with a brass andiron. Are you guilty, or
not guilty?"

"Not guilty." Her voice was unsteady, but the words were distinct.

Mr. Dunbar, Mr. Burk, and a middle-aged woman lean as Cassius, came
nearer to the platform, and after a leisurely survey of the girl's
face and figure, pronounced her the person whom they had severally
accused of the crime of causing the death of General Darrington.

The canons that govern psychical phenomena are as occult as the
abstraction of the "fourth division of space"; and they defy the
realism of common-place probability, mock all analysis, and
annihilate distance. When Beryl had first met the keen scrutiny of
Mr. Dunbar's glittering blue eyes, their baleful influence made her
shiver slightly; and now at the instant in which he approached, and
inspected her closely, she forgot that she was on trial for her
life, became temporarily oblivious of her dismal entourage, and
stood once more before a marble image in the Vatican, where the
light streamed full on the cold face, that for centuries has been
the synonym of blended beauty and cruelty. In her ears rang again
the words her father had rend aloud at her side, while she sketched:
"But he does not inspire confidence, by the smile that would like to
express goodness. The finely cut underlip that rises from the
strongly marked hollow over the chin ought to sharpen with a dash of
contempt the conscious superiority that lies upon his broad,
magnificent forehead. His smile is in strong contrast with the cold
gaze of the large open eyes; a gaze that hesitates not, but without
mercy verifies a judgment fixed in advance, that gives up every one
to condemnation."

The dusty crowded court-room appeared to swim in the rich aroma
distilled from the creamy hearts of Roman hyacinths; and the velvet
lips of purple Roman violets suddenly babbled out the secret of the
mysterious repulsion which had puzzled her, from the hour in which
she first looked into Mr. Dunbar's face; his strange resemblance to
the Chiaramonti Tiberius, which she had studied and copied so
carefully. In days gone by, the subtle repose, the marvelous beauty
of that marble face, where as yet the demon of destruction had cast
no stain, possessed a singular fascination for her; and now the
haunting likeness which had perplexed her at Elm Bluff, became
associated inseparably with old Bedney's description of Mr. Dunbar's
merciless treatment of witnesses, and Beryl realized with alarming
clearness that in her grandfather's lawyer she had met the
incarnation of her cruel fate.

Standing quite near her, he gravely related, with emphatic
distinctness and careful detail, his first meeting with the prisoner
on the piazza at Elm Bluff, and the vivid impression she left on his
mind; his return to Elm Bluff about half-past nine the same evening,
in order to get a deed which he had forgotten to put into his pocket
at the first visit. Learning that General Darrington had not yet
retired for the night, he sent in to ask for the deed, and was
summoned "to come and get it himself." On entering the bedroom, he
found his client wrapped in a cashmere dressing-gown, and sitting in
an easy chair by the window, which opened on the north or front
piazza. He appeared much perturbed and harassed, and in reply to
inquiries touching his health, answered that he was "completely
shaken up, and unnerved, by a very stormy and disagreeable interview
held that afternoon with the child of his wayward daughter Ellice.
"When witness asked: "Did not the great beauty of the embassadress
accomplish the pardon and restoration of the erring mother?" General
Darrington had struck his cane violently on the floor, and
exclaimed: "Don't talk such infernal nonsense! Did you ever hear of
my pardoning a wrong against my family name and honor? Does any man
live, idiotic enough to consider me so soft-hearted? No, no. On the
contrary, I was harsh to the girl; so harsh that she turned upon me,
savage as a strong cub defending a crippled helpless dam. They know
now that the last card has been played, and the game ended; for I
gave her distinctly to understand that at my death, Prince would
inherit every iota of my estate, and that my will had cut them off
without a cent. I meant it then, I mean it now. I swear that lowborn
fiddler's brood shall never darken these doors; but somehow, I am
unable to get rid of the strange, disagreeable sensation the girl
left behind her, as a farewell legacy. She stood there at that glass
door, and raised her hand like a prophetess. 'General Darrington,
when you lie down to die, may God have more mercy on your poor soul
than you have shown to your suffering child.'"

Witness advised him to go to bed, and sleep off the unpleasant
recollections of  the day, but he said it was so oppressively hot,
he wanted to sit at the window, which was wide open. Witness having
secured the deed, which was on the table in the room, bade his
client good-night, and left the house.

He was riding toward town, and thought it was about ten o'clock,
when he saw the prisoner sitting under a pine tree near the road,
and not more than a half a mile from the bridge over the "Branch"
that runs at the foot of Elm Bluff. His horse had shied and plunged
at sight of her, and, the moonlight being bright as day, witness
easily recognized her as the same person he had seen earlier in the
afternoon. Thinking her appearance there at that hour was rather
mysterious, he asked her if she had lost her way; to which she
replied "No, sir." On the following morning, when the mournful news
of the murder of General Darrington had convulsed the entire
community with grief and horror, witness had smothered his
reluctance to proceed against a woman, and a solemn sense of duty
forced him to bring these suspicious circumstances to the knowledge
of the District Solicitor.

While he gave his testimony, Mr. Dunbar watched her closely for some
trace of emotion, but she met his gaze without the movement of a
muscle, and he detected not even a quiver of the jet lashes that
darkened her proud gray eyes.

Antony Burk next testified that he had given the accused
instructions about the road to Elm Bluff, when she arrived at X--;
and that after buying her return ticket, she told him it was
necessary she should take the 7:15 train, and that she would be sure
to catch it. The train was a few minutes late, but had pulled out of
the station twenty minutes before the prisoner came back, when she
appeared much annoyed at having missed it.

Then she had sent a telegram (a copy of which was in the possession
of the Solicitor), and requested him to allow her to remain in the
ladies' waiting-room until the next train at 3:05. He had directed
her to a hotel close by, but she declined going there. Thinking she
was fatigued and might relish it, he had, after supper, carried a
pitcher of iced tea to the waiting-room, but though he remained
there until nine o'clock she was nowhere visible. He went home and
went to sleep, but the violence of the storm aroused him; and when
he took his lantern and went back to unlock the ticket office, he
searched the whole place, and the prisoner was not in the building.
This was at half-past two A.M., and the pitcher of tea remained
untouched where he had placed it. It was not raining when he
returned, and a few minutes after he had hunted for the prisoner, he
was standing in the door of his office and he saw her coming down
the railway track, from the direction of the water tank and the
bridge. She was breathing rapidly as if she had been running, and
witness noticed that her clothes were damp, and that some drops of
water fell from the edge of her hat. A lamp-post stood in front of
the station, and he saw her plainly; asked her why she did not stay
in the room, which he had left open for her? Prisoner said she had
remained there. Witness told her he knew better; that she was not
there at nine nor yet at half-past two o'clock. The accused did not
appear inclined to talk, and gave no explanation, but got aboard the
3:05 train. Witness considered her actions so suspicious, that he
had related all he knew to Mr. Dunbar, who had summoned him before
the magistrate. He (witness) was very loath to think evil of a
woman, especially one so beautiful and noble looking, and if he
wronged her, he hoped God would forgive him; but he never dodged
telling the truth.

Here the female Cassius rose, and gave her name as Angeline Dobbs.

"She had for several years attended to the sewing and mending at Elm
Bluff, being summoned there whenever her services were required. On
the afternoon previous to General Darrington's death she was sitting
at her needlework in the hall of the second story of his house. As
the day was very hot, she had opened the door leading out to an iron
balcony, which projected just over the front hall door downstairs;
and since the piazza was open from the roof to the floor, she had
peeped over, and seen the prisoner when she arrived and had watched
her while she sat on the steps, waiting to be admitted. After the
accused had been inside the house some time, she (witness)
recollected that she had seen a hole in one of the lace curtains in
the library downstairs, and thought this would be such a nice time
to darn it. The library was opposite the drawing room, and adjoined
General Darrington's bed-room. The door was open and witness heard
what she supposed was a quarrel, as General Darrington's voice was
loud and violent; and she distinctly heard him say: 'My will is so
strong, no contest can touch it! and it will stand forever between
your mother and my property.' Soon after, General Darrington had
slammed the door, and though she heard loud tones for some time, she
could not make out the words. The impression left on witness's mind
was that the prisoner was very impudent to the old gentleman; and
not long afterward she saw accused standing in the rose garden,
pretending to gather some flowers, but really looking up and down at
the front windows. Witness knew the prisoner saw the vault where the
General kept his papers, because she heard it opened while she was
in the bed-room. The door of the vault or safe did not open on
hinges, but was iron, and slid on a metal rod, which made a very
peculiar squeaking sound. When she heard the noise she thought that
General Darrington was so enraged that he got the will to show
prisoner it was all fixed forever, against her and her mother."

When Miss Dobbs sat down, a lame man, disfigured by a scar on his
cheek, learned upon a stick and testified:

"My name is Belshazzar Tatem. Was an orderly sergeant attached to
General Darrington's staff dtiring the war; but since that time have
been a florist and gardener, and am employed to trim hedges and
vines, and transplant flowers at Elm Bluff." On the afternoon of the
prisoner's visit there, he was resetting violet roots on a border
under the western veranda, upon which opened the glass door leading
out from the General's bed-room. He had heard an angry altercation
carried on between General Darrington and some one, and supposed he
was scolding one of the servants. He went to a shed in the barn yard
to get a spade he needed, and when he came back he saw the prisoner
walk down the steps, and thought it singular a stranger should leave
the house that way. Wondered whom she could be, and wondered also
that the General had quarrelled with such a splendid looking lady.
Next morning when he went back to his work, he noticed the glass
door was shut, but the red curtain inside was looped back. He
thought it was half-past eight o'clock, when he heard a loud cry in
the bed-room, and very soon after, somebody screamed. He ran up the
steps, but the glass door was locked on the inside, and when he went
around and got into the room, the first thing he saw was General
Darrington's body lying on the floor, with his feet toward the
hearth, and his head almost on a line with the iron vault built in
the wall. The servants were screaming and wringing their hands, and
he called them to help him lift the General, thinking that he had
dropped in a fit; but he found him stone cold and stiff. There was
no sign of blood anywhere, but a heavy, old-fashioned brass andiron
was lying close to the General's head, and he saw a black spot like
a bruise on his right temple. General Darrington wore his night
clothes, and the bed showed he had been asleep there. Some broken
vases were on the floor and hearth, and the vault was wide open. The
tin box was upside down on the carpet, and some papers in envelopes
were scattered about.

Witness had picked up a leather bag carefully tied at the top with
red tape, drawn into hard knots; but in one side he found a hole
which had been cut with a knife, and at the bottom of the bag was a
twenty-dollar gold piece. Two more coins of the same value were
discovered on the floor, when General Darrington's body was lifted;
and on the bolster of the bed lay a bottle containing chloroform.
Witness immediately sent off for some of General Darrington's
friends, and also notified the coroner; and he did not leave the
room again until the inquest was held. The window on the front
piazza was open, and witness had searched the piazza and the grounds
for tracks, but discovered no traces of the burglar and murderer,
who had escaped before the rain ceased, otherwise the tracks would
have been found. Witness was positive that the prisoner was the same
person whom he had seen coming out of the bed-room, and with whom
General Darrington had quarrelled.

The sheriff here handed to the magistrate, the gold pieces found on
the floor at Elm Bluff, by the last witness; then the little wicker
basket which had been taken from the prisoner when she was arrested.
The coins discovered therein were taken out, and careful comparison
showed that they corresponded exactly with those picked up after the
murder. The case of sapphires was also shown, and Mr. Dunbar rose to
say, that "The prosecution would prove by the attorney who drew up
General Darrington's will, that these exceedingly valuable stones
had been bequeathed by a clause in that will to Prince Darrington,
as a bridal present for whomsoever he might marry."

A brief silence ensued, during which the magistrate pulled at the
corner of his tawny mustache, and earnestly regarded the prisoner.
She stood, with her beautiful white hands clasped before her, the
slender fingers interlaced, the head thrown proudly back. Extreme
pallor had given place to a vivid flush that dyed her cheeks, and
crimsoned her delicate lips; and her eyes looking straight into
space, glowed with an unnatural and indescribable lustre. Tadmor's
queen Bath Zabbai could not have appeared more regal in her haughty
pose, amid the exulting shouts that rent the skies of conquering
Rome. The magistrate cleared his throat, and addressed the accused.

"You are Beryl Brentano, the granddaughter of General Darrington?"

"I am Beryl Brentano."

"You have heard the charges brought against you. What have you to
say in defence?"

"That I am innocent of every accusation."

"By what witnesses will you prove it?"

"By a statement of the whole truth in detail, if I may be allowed to
make it."

Here the Solicitor, Mr. Churchill, rose and said:

"While faithfully discharging my official duties, loyalty to justice
does not smother the accents of human sympathy; and before
proceeding any further, I hope your Honor will appoint some counsel
to confer with and advise the prisoner. Her isolation appeals to
every noble instinct of manhood, and it were indeed puerile tribute
to our lamented General Darrington, to bring his granddaughter
before this tribunal, without the aid and defence of legal advisers.
Justice itself would not be welcome to me, if unjustly won. My
friend, Mr. Hazelton, who is present, has expressed his desire to
defend the prisoner; and while I am aware that your Honor is under
the impression she refuses to accept counsel, I trust you will
nevertheless commit her, until she can confer with him."

Mr. Hazelton rose and bowed, in tacit approval.

Beryl advanced a few steps, and her clear pure voice thrilled every
heart in the crowded room.

"I need no help to tell the truth, and I want to conceal nothing.
Time is inexpressibly valuable to me now, for a human life more
precious than my own is at stake; and if I am detained here, my
mother may die. May I speak at once, and explain the circumstances
which you consider so mysterious as to justify the shameful
indignity put upon me?"

"Since you assume the responsibility of your own defence, you may
proceed with your statement. Relate what occurred from the hour you
reached Elm Bluff, until you left X---next morning."

"I came here to deliver in person a letter written by my mother to
her father, General Darrington, because other letters sent through
the mail, had been returned unread. It contained a request for one
hundred dollars to pay the expense of a surgical operation, which we
hoped would restore her health. When I reached Elm Bluff, I waited
on the steps, until General Darrington's attorney finished his
business and came out; then I was led by an old colored man to the
bed-room where General Darrington sat. I gave no name, fearing he
might refuse to admit me, and he was very courteous in his manner
until I laid the letter before him. He immediately recognized the
handwriting, and threw it to the floor, declaring that no human
being had the right to address him as father, except his son Prince.
I picked up the letter, and insisted he should at least read the
petition of a suffering, and perhaps dying woman. He was very
violent in his denunciation of my parents, and his voice was loud
and angry. So painful was the whole interview, that it was a bitter
trial to me to remain in his presence, but knowing how absolutely
necessary it was that mother should obtain the money, I forced
myself to beg him to read the letter. Finally he consented, read it,
and seemed somewhat softened; but he tore it into strips and threw
it from him. He drank several glasses of wine from a decanter on the
table, and offered me some, expressing the opinion that I must be
tired from my journey. I declined it. General Darrington then
questioned me about my family, my mode of living; and after a few
moments became very much excited, renewing his harsh invectives
against my parents. It was at this stage of the interview that he
uttered the identical words quoted by the witness: 'My Will is so
strong, no contest can touch it, and it will stand forever between
your mother and my property.'

"Immediately after, he went to the door leading into the library and
called 'Bedney!' No one answered, and he shut the door, kicking it
as it closed. When he came back to his chair, he said very bitterly:
'At least we will have no eavesdroppers at this resurrection of my
dead.' He told me all the story of my mother's girlhood; of her
marriage, which had infuriated him; that he had sent her a certain
proportion of property, and then disowned and disinherited her.
Afterward he described his lonely life, his second marriage which
was very happy, and his adoption of his wife's son, who, he
repeatedly told me, had usurped my mother's place in his affections.
Finally he said:

"'Your mother has asked for one hundred dollars. You shall have it;
not because I recognize her as child of mine, but because a sick
woman appeals to a Southern gentleman.'

"He took a bunch of keys from his pocket, and with one of them
opened a safe or iron closet on the wall near the chimney, and from
that vault he brought a square black tin box to the table, where he
opened it. He took out a leather bag, and counted into my hand five
gold pieces of twenty dollars each. The money was given so
ungraciously that I told him I would not accept it, save as a loan
for mother's benefit; and that as soon as I could earn it I would
return the amount to him. I was so anxious to get away, I started
toward the library door, but he called me back, and gave me the
morocco case which contains the sapphires. He said my mother's
mother had bought them as a gift for her daughter, to be worn when
she was graduated at school; but as she married and left school
without his knowledge, the jewels had never been seen by her. He
told me he had intended to give them to his son Prince, for his
bride, but that now he would send them to mother, who could sell
them for a handsome sum, because they were valuable. He showed so
much sorrow at this time, that I begged him to give me some message
of pardon and affection, which she would prize infinitely more than
money or jewels; but he again became angry and bitter, and so I left
him. I came away by the door leading out on the iron veranda,
because he directed me to do so, saying that he did not wish me to
meet the servants, who would pry and tattle. When I closed the glass
door I saw him standing in the middle of the room, leaning on his
cane, and he had the black tin box in his hand. The sun was setting
then, and now--"

She ceased speaking for some seconds, then raised her hands toward
heaven, and with uplifted eyes that seemed in their strained gaze to
pierce beyond the veil, she added with solemn emphasis:

"I call God to witness, that was the last and only time I ever saw
General Darrington. That was the last and only visit I ever made to
Elm Bluff."

There was a general movement among the spectators, and audible
excitement, which was promptly quelled by the magistrate.

"Silence there in front, or I shall order the room cleared."

Turning toward Beryl, he said:

"If you left Elm Bluff at sunset, why did you not take the 7:15
train?"

"I tried to do so, but missed it because I desired to obey my
mother's injunctions as strictly as possible. She gave me a small
bunch of flowers, and asked me to be sure to lay them for her on her
mother's grave. When I reached the cemetery, which you know is in
sight of the road from Elm Bluff, the gate was locked, and it
required some time to enable me to climb over the wall and find the
monument. It was growing dark, and when I arrived at the station, I
learned the train had just gone."

"Why did you not go to a hotel, as you were advised to do?"

"Because after sending the telegram to my mother, I had no money to
pay for lodging; and I asked permission to stay in the ladies'
waiting-room."

"State where and how you spent the night."

"It was very hot and sultry in that room, and as there was a bright
moon shining, I walked out to get some fresh air. The pine woods had
appeared so pretty and pleasant that afternoon, that I went on and
on toward them, and did not realize how far they were. I met people
passing along the road, and it did not seem lonely. The smell of the
pines was new to me, and to enjoy it, I sat down on the straw. I was
tired, and must have fallen asleep at once, for I remember nothing
till some noise startled me, and there I saw the same man on
horseback in the road, whom I had met at Elm Bluff. He asked me if I
had misled my way, and I answered 'No, sir.' The height of the moon
showed me it was late, and as I was frightened at finding myself
alone in the woods, I almost ran back to the railway station, where
I saw no one, except a telegraph operator, who seemed to be asleep
in his chair. I cannot say what time it was, because I could not see
the clock. Soon after, it began to thunder, and all through that
terrible storm I was alone in the waiting-room. So great was my
relief when the wind and lightning ceased, that I went to sleep, and
dreamed of a happy time when I lived in Italy, and of talking with
one very dear to me. Just then I awoke with a start, and heard a
voice talking outside, which seemed very familiar. There were two
persons; one, a negro, said:

"'There ain't no train 'till daylight, excepting the through
freight.'

"The other person asked: 'When is it due?' The negro answered:

"'Pretty soon, but it don't stop here; it goes to the water tank
where it blows for the railroad bridge; and that is only a short
distance up the track.'

"I think I must have been only half awake, and with my mind fixed on
my dream, I ran out in front of the station house. An old negro man
limping down the street was the only person visible, and while I
watched him he suddenly vanished. I went along the track for some
distance but saw no one; and when I came back, the ticket agent was
standing in the door of his office. I cannot explain to you the
singular impulse which carried me out, when I heard the dialogue,
because it is inexplicable to myself, save by the supposition that I
was still dreaming; and yet I saw the negro man distinctly. There
was a lamp-post near him, and he had a bundle on his shoulder. When
the 3:05 train came, I went aboard and left X---."

A smile parted Mr. Dunbar's lips, and his handsome teeth glittered
as he whispered to Judge Dent:

"Even your chivalrous compassion can scarcely digest this knotty
solution of her movements that night. As a fabrication, it does
little credit to her ingenuity."

"Her statement impresses me differently. She is either entirely
innocent, or she had an accomplice, whose voice she recognized; and
this clue should be investigated."

The District Solicitor rose and bowed to the Magistrate.

"With your Honor's permission, I should like to ask the prisoner
whom she expected to see, when she recognized the voice?"

"A person who is very dear to me, but who is not in the United
States."

"What is the name of that person?"

Her lips moved to pronounce his name, but some swift intuitive
warning restrained the utterance. Suddenly a new horror, a ghastly
possibility, thrust itself for the first time before her, and she
felt as though some hand of ice clutched her heart.

Those who watched her so closely, saw the blood ebb from cheeks and
lips; noted the ashy pallor that succeeded, and the strange groping
motion of her hands. She staggered toward the platform, and when the
Magistrate caught her arm, she fell against him like some tottering
marble image, entirely unconscious.

                       *       *       *       *       *

So prolonged and death-like was the swoon, and so futile the usual
methods of restoration, that the prisoner was carried into the small
ante-room, and laid upon a wooden bench; where a physician, who
chanced to be in the audience, was summoned to attend her. Finding
restoratives ineffectual, he took out his lancet:

"This is no ordinary fainting fit."

He attempted to roll up one of her sleeves, but seeing this was
impracticable, would have unfastened her dress, had not Judge Dent
arrested his hand.

"No, doctor; cut out the sleeve if necessary, but don't touch her
otherwise."

"Let me assist you; I can easily bare the arm."

As he spoke, Mr. Dunbar knelt beside the bench, and with a small,
sharp pen-knife ripped the seam from elbow to shoulder, from elbow
to wrist, swiftly and deftly folding back the sleeve, and exposing
the perfect moulding of the snowy arm.

"Just hold the hand, Dunbar, so as to keep it steady."

Clasping closely the hand, which the physician laid in his palm the
attorney noted the exquisite symmetry of the slender fingers and
oval nails. He bent forward and watched the frozen face. When the
heavily lashed lids quivered and lifted, and she looked vacantly at
the grave compassionate countenances leaning over her, a certain
tightening of the hold upon her fingers, drew her attention. Her
gaze fastened on the lawyer's blue eyes as if by a subtle malign
fascination. The veil that shrouded consciousness was rent, not
fully raised; and as in some dream the solemn eyes appeared to
search his. A strange shivering thrill shot along his nerves, and
his quiet, well regulated heart so long the docile obedient motor,
fettered vassal of his will, bounded, strained hard on the steel
cable that held it in thrall.

"You feel better now?" asked the physician, who was stanching the
flow of blood.

Still her gaze seemed to penetrate the inmost recesses of the
lawyer's nature, calling into sudden revolt dormant elements that
amazed and defied him.

A shadowy smile curved her pale lips.

"At the mercy of Tiberius. At the mercy of Tiberius."

Those present looked inquiringly at each other.

"Her mind wanders a little. Sheriff, give her some of that brandy.
She is as weak as a baby."

Judge Dent raised her head, and the officer held the tumbler to her
mouth; while the former said gently:

"My poor girl, drink a little, it will strengthen you."

With a gesture of loathing, she rejected it; and as she attempted to
raise herself, all the dire extremity of her peril rushed back upon
her mind, like a black overwhelming tide from the sea of the past.

"Lie still, until I have bandaged your arm. Here, Dunbar, you
acquitted yourself so dexterously with your knife, just lend a hand.
Hold the arm until I secure the bandage."

To find herself surrounded by men, helpless in the grasp of
strangers, with no womanly touch or glance to sustain her, served to
intensify her misery; and wrenching herself free, she struggled into
a sitting posture, then staggered to her feet. The heavy coil of
hair loosened when they bore her from the court-room, now released
itself from restraining pins, and fell in burnished waves to her
knees, clothing her with a glory, such as the world's great masters
in art reserve for the beatified. Had all the blood that fed her
heart been drained, she would not have appeared more deadly pale,
and in her wide eyes was the desperate look of a doomed animal, that
feels the hot fangs of the hounds, and the cold steel of the
hunters.

"Be persuaded for your own sake, to swallow some stimulant, of which
you are sadly in need. You will require all your strength, and, as a
physician, I insist upon your taking my prescription."

"If I might have some water. Just a little water."

Some one brought a brown stone pitcher, and she drank long and
thirstily; then looked for a moment at the faces of those who
crowded about her.

"What will be done now?"

Every eye fell to the floor, and after a painful silence Judge Dent
said very gently:

"For the present, the Magistrate will retain you in custody, until
the action of the Grand Jury. Should they fail to indict you, then
you will at once be released."

"I am to go to prison? I am to be thrust among convicts, vile
criminals! I--? My father's Beryl? O, righteous God! Where is Thy
justice? O, Christ! Is Thy mercy a mockery?"

She stood, with her chin resting on her clenched hands, and twice a
long violent shudder shook her from head to foot.

"I hope your imprisonment will be only temporary. The Grand Jury
will be in session next week. Meantime diligent search may discover
the persons whose conversation you overheard at the station; and if
you be innocent, we are all your friends, and the law, which now
seems so stern, will prove your strongest protector and vindicator."

Judge Dent stood close beside her, as he essayed these words of
comfort, and saw that she caught her breath as though in mortal
agony. Her face writhed, and she shut her eyes, unable to
contemplate some hideous apparition. He suspected that she was
fighting desperately an impulse that suggested succor; and he was
sure she had strangled it, when her hands fell nerveless at her
side, and she raised her bowed head. If the finger of paralysis had
passed over her features, they would not have appeared more
hopelessly fixed. Mechanically she twisted and coiled her hair, and
took the hat and shawl which the officer held out to her.

"If I can assist you in any way, you have only to send for me."

She looked at Judge Dent intently, for an instant, then shook her
head.

"No one can help me now."

She tied her veil over her face, and silently followed the deputy
sheriff to a carriage, that stood near the pavement.

When he would have assisted her, she haughtily repelled him.

"I will follow you, because I must; but do not put your hands on
me."




CHAPTER VII.


In ante bellum days, when States' Rights was a sacred faith, a
revered and precious palladium, State pride blossomed under Southern
skies, and State coffers overflowed with the abundance wherewith God
blessed the land. During that period, when it became necessary to
select a site for a new Penitentiary, the salubrity and central
location of X---had so strongly commended it, that the spacious
structure was erected within its limits, and regarded as an
architectural triumph of which the State might justly boast. Soon
after this had been completed, the old county jail, situated on the
border of the town, was burned one windy March night; then the red
rain of war deluged the land, and when the ghastly sun of
"Reconstruction" smiled upon the grave of States' Rights, Municipal
money disappeared in subterranean channels. Thus it came to pass,
that with the exception of a small "lockup" attached to Police
Headquarters, X--had failed to rebuild its jail, and domiciled its
dangerous transgressors in the great stone prison; paying therefor
to the State an annual amount per capita.

Built of gray granite which darkened with time and weather stains,
its massive walls, machicolated roof, and tall arched clock-tower
lifted their leaden outlines against the sky, and cast a brooding
shadow over the town, lying below; a grim perpetual menace to all
who subsequently found themselves locked in its reformatory arms.
Separated from the bustling mart and busy traffic, by the winding
river that divided the little city into North and South X--, it
crested an eminence on the north; and the single lower story
flanking the main edifice east and west, resembled the trailing
wings of some vast bird of prey, an exaggerated simulacrum of a
monstrous gray condor perched on a "coigne of vantage," waiting to
swoop upon its victims. Encircled by a tall brick wall, which was
surmounted by iron spikes sharp as bayonets, that defied escalade,
the grounds extended to the verge of the swift stream in front, and
stretched back to the border of a heavily timbered tract of pine
land, a bit of primeval forest left to stare at the encroaching
armies of Philistinism.

Within the precincts of the yard, the tender conservatism of our
great-hearted mother Nature, gently toned the savage stony features;
and even under the chill frown of iron barred windows, golden
sunshine bravely smiled, soft grasses wove their emerald velvet
tapestries starred and flushed with dainty satin petals, which late
Autumn roses showered in munificent contribution, to the work of
pitying love.

In a comfortably furnished room situated in the second story of the
main building, sat a woman apparently thirty-five years old, who was
singing to a baby lying face downward on her lap, while with one
hand she rocked the wicker cradle beside her, where a boy of four
years was tossing. Her hazel eyes were full of kindly light, the
whole face eloquent with that patient, limitless tenderness, which
is the magic chrism of maternity, wherewith Lucina and Cuba
abundantly anoint Motherhood. The blessed and infallible nepenthe
for all childhood's ills and aches, mother touch, mother songs, soon
held soothing sway; and when the woman laid the sleeping babe on her
own bed, and covered her with a shawl, she saw her husband leaning
against the partly open door.

"Come here, Susie. The kids are snug and safe for the present, and I
want you."

"For shame, Ned! To call our darlings such a beastly name. Kids,
indeed! My sweetest, loveliest lambs!"

"There! Hear yourself! If I can see any choice of respectability
between kids and lambs, may I turn to a thoroughbred Southdown, and
take the blue ribbon at the next Fair. Beasts of the field, all of
them. The always-wide-awake-contrariness of womankind is a curious
and fearful thing. If I had called our beloved towheads, lambs, you
would have sworn through blue ruin that they were the cutest,
spryest pair of spotted kids, that ever skipped over a five-railed
fence!"

"So much the worse for you, Ned Singleton, that you are such a
hopeless heathen; you do not even know where the Elect are appointed
to stand, at that great day when the sheep come up on the right hand
of the Lord, and the goats go down to the left. If you read your
Bible more, I should have less to teach you."

"Oh! but let me tell you, I thought of all that before I made up my
mind to marry the daughter of a Presbyterian preacher. I knew your
dear little blue-nose would keep the orthodox trail; and being one
of the Elect you could not get the points of the celestial compass
mixed. Don't you forget, that it is part of the unspoken marriage
contract, that the wife must not only keep her own soul white, but
bleach her husband's also; and no matter what a reprobate a man may
be, he always expects his better-half, by hook or by crook, to steer
him into heaven."

He put his hands on his wife's shoulders, shook her, in token of
mastery, and kissed her.

"What do you want of my 'always-wide-awake-contrariness'? I have
half a mind not to help you out of your scrape; for of course you
have mired somewhere. What is the matter now, Ned?"

"Yes--stuck hard and fast; so my dear little woman, don't you go
back on your wedding-day promises, but just lend a helping hand. I
don't know what is to be done with that poor young woman in No. 19.
One of the under-wardens, Jarvis, sleeps this week right under her
cell, and he tells me that all night long she tramps up and down,
without cessation, like some caged animal. This is her third day in,
and she has not touched a morsel; though at Judge Dent's request I
ordered some extras given her. Jarvis said she was not sullen, but
he thought it proper to report to me that she seemed to act very
strangely; so I went up to see after her. When I opened the door she
was walking up and down the floor, with her hands locked at the back
of her head, and I declare, Susie, she looks five years older than
when she came here. There are great dark hollows under her eyes, and
two red spots like coals of fire on her cheeks. I said: 'Are you
sick, that you reject your meals?' To which she replied: 'Don't
trouble yourself to send me food; I cannot eat!' Then I told her I
understood that she was restless at night, and I advised her to take
a mixture which would quiet her nerves. She shook her head, and I
could not bear to look at her; the eyes seemed so like a wounded
fawn's, brimful of misery. I asked her if there was anything I could
do, to make her more comfortable; or if she needed medicine. All
this time she kept up her quick walk to and fro, and she answered:
'Thank you. I need nothing--but death; and that will come soon.' Now
what could I say? I felt such a lump in my throat, that if Solomon
had whispered to me some kind speech, I could not have uttered it,
so I got out of the room just as fast as possible, to dry the tears
that somehow would blur my eyes. When they are surly, or snappish,
or violent, or insolent, I know exactly what to do, and have no
trouble; but hang me, if I can cope with this lady--there it is out!
She is a lady every inch, and as much out of place here as I should
be in Queen Victoria's drawing-room. Men are clumsy brutes, even in
kid gloves, and bruise much oftener than they heal. Whenever I am in
that girl's presence, I have a queer feeling that I am walking on
eggs, and tip-toe as I may, shall smash things. If something is not
done, she will be ill on our hands, and a funeral will balk the
bloodhounds."

"O, hush, Ned! You give me the shivers. My heart yearns toward that
beautiful young creature, and I believe she is as innocent as my
baby. It is a burning shame to send her here, unless there is no
doubt of her guilt. Judge Dent is too shrewd an old fox to be baited
with chaff, and I am satisfied from what he told you, that he
believes her statement. There is nothing I would not do to comfort
her, but I would rather have my ears boxed than witness her
suffering. The day I carried to her a change of clothes, until her
own could be washed, and sewed up her dress sleeve. I did nothing
but cry. I could not help it, when she moaned and wrung her hands,
and said her mother's heart would break. I have heard all my life
that justice is blind; I have learned to believe it, for it
stumbles, and gropes, and lays iron claws on the wrong person. As
for the lawyers? They are fit pilots: and the courts are little
better than blind man's buff. Don't stand chewing your mustache,
Ned. Tell me what you want me to do, while baby is asleep. She has a
vexatious habit of taking cat naps."

"Little woman, I turn over the case to you. Just let your heart
loose, and follow it."

"If I do, will you endorse me?"

"Till the stars fall."

"Can you stay here awhile?"

"Yes, if you will tell Jarvis where he can find me."

"Mind you, Ned, you are not to interfere with me?"

"No--I swear I won't. Hurry up, or there will be much music in this
bleating fold; and you know I am as utterly useless with a crying
child, as a one-armed man in a concert of fiddlers."

The cell assigned to the new prisoner was in the centre of a line,
which rose tier above tier, like the compartments in a pigeon house,
or the sombre caves hewn out of rock-ribbed cliffs, in some lonely
Laura. Iron stairways conducted the unfortunates to these stone
cages, where the dim cold light filtered through the iron lattice-
work of the upper part of the door, made a perpetual crepuscular
atmosphere within. The bare floor, walls, and low ceiling were
spotlessly clean and white; and an iron cot with heavy brown
blankets spread smoothly and a wooden bench in one corner,
constituted the furniture. Scrupulous neatness reigned everywhere,
but the air was burdened with the odor of carbolic acid, and even at
mid-day was chill as the breath of a tomb. Where the doors were
thrown open, they resembled the yawning jaws of rifled graves; and
when closed, the woful inmates peering through the black lattice
seemed an incarnation of Dante's hideous Caina tenants.

When Mrs. Singleton stopped in front of No. 19, and looked through
the grating, Beryl was standing at the extremity of the cell, with
her face turned to the wall, and her hands clasping the back of her
neck. The ceiling was so low she could have touched it, had she
lifted her arms, and she appeared to have retreated as far in the
gloomy den as the barriers allowed. Thinking that perhaps the girl
was praying, the warden's wife waited some minutes, but no sound
greeted her; and so motionless was the figure, that it might have
been only an alto rilievo carved on the wall. Pushing the door open,
Mrs. Singleton entered, and deposited on the iron bed a waiter
covered with a snowy napkin. At the sound, Beryl turned, and her
arms fell to her side, but she shrank back against the wall, as if
solitude were her only solace, and human intrusion an added torture.

Mrs. Singleton took both hands, and held them firmly:

"Do you believe it right to commit suicide?"

"I believe in everything but human justice, and Divine mercy."

"Your conscience tells you that--"

"Am I allowed a conscience? What ghastly mockery! Thieves and
murderers are not fit tenements for conscience, and I--I--am accused
of stealing, and of bloodshed. Justice! What a horrible sham! We--
her victims--who adored the beneficent and incorruptible attribute
of God Himself--we are undeceived, when Justice--the harpy--tears
our hearts out with her hideous, foul, defiling claws."

She spoke through set teeth, and a spasm of shuddering shook her
from head to feet.

"Listen to me. Suspicion is one thing, proof something very
different. You are accused, but not convicted, and--"

"I shall be. Justice must be appeased, and I am the most convenient
and available victim. An awful crime has been committed, and
outraged law, screaming for vengeance, pounces like a hungry hawk on
an innocent and unsuspecting prey. Does she spare the victim because
it quivers, and dies hard?"

"Hush! You must not despair. I believe in your innocence; I believe
every word you uttered that day was true, and I believe that our
merciful God will protect you. Put yourself in His hands, and His
mercy will save, for 'it endureth forever.'"

"I don't ask mercy! I claim justice--from God and man. The wicked
grovel, and beg for mercy; but innocence lays hold upon the very
throne of God, and clutches His sword, and demands justice!"

"I understand how you feel, and I do not wonder; but for your own
sake, in order to keep your mind clear and strong for your
vindication, you certainly ought to take care of your health.
Starvation is the surest leech for depleting soul and body. Do you
want to die here in prison, leaving your name tarnished, and
smirched with suspicion of crime, when you can live to proclaim your
innocence to the world? Remember that even if you care nothing for
your life, you owe something to your mother. You have two chances
yet; the Grand Jury may not find a true bill--"

"Yes, that tiger-eyed lawyer will see that they do. He knows that
the law is a cunning net for the feet of the innocent and the
unwary. He set his snare dexterously, and will not fail to watch
it."

"You mean Mr. Dunbar? Yes, you certainly have cause to dread him;
but even if you should be indicted, you have twelve human hearts
full of compassion to appeal to--and I can't think it possible a
jury of sane men could look at you and condemn you. You must fight
for your life; and what is far more to you than life, you must fight
for your good name, for your character. Suspicion is not proof of
crime, and there is no taint on you yet; for sin alone stains, and
if you will only be brave and clear yourself as I know you can, what
a grand triumph it will be. If you starve yourself you seal your
doom. An empty stomach will do you more harm than the Grand Jury and
all the lawyers; for it utterly upsets your nerves, and makes your
brain whirl like a top. For three days and nights you have not
tasted food: now just to please me, since I have taken so much
trouble, sit down here by me, and eat what I have brought. I know
you would rather not; I know you don't want it; but, my dear child,
take it like any other dose, which will strengthen you for your
battle. It is very fine to rant about heroism, but starvation is the
best factory for turning out cowards: and even the courage of old
Caesar would have had the 'dwindles,' if he had been stinted in his
rations."

She removed the napkin, and displayed a tempting luncheon, served in
pretty, gilt-banded white china. What a contrast it presented, to
the steaming tin platter and dull tin quart cups carried daily to
the adjoining cell?

Beryl laid her hand on Mrs. Singleton's shoulder, and her mouth
trembled.

"I thank you, sincerely, for your sympathy--and for your confidence;
and to show my appreciation of your kindness, I wish I could eat
that dainty luncheon; but I think it would strangle me--I have such
a ceaseless aching here, in my throat. I feel as if I should
stifle."

"See here! I brought you some sweet rich milk in my little boy's
cup. He was my first-born, and I lost him. This was his christening
present from my mother. It is very precious, very sacred to me. If
you will only drink what is in it, I shall be satisfied. Don't
slight my angel baby's cup. That would hurt me."

She raised the pretty "Bo-Peep" silver cup to the prisoner's lips,
and seeing the kind hazel eyes swimming in tears, Beryl stooped her
head and drank the milk.

The warden's wife lifted the cup, looked wistfully at it, and kissed
the name engraved on the metal:

"You know now I must think you pure and worthy. I have given you the
strongest possible proof; for only the good could be allowed to
touch what my dead boy's lips have consecrated. Now come out with
me, and get some pure fresh air."

Beryl shrank back.

"These close walls seem a friendly shelter from the horrible faces
that cluster outside. You can form no idea how I dread contact with
the vile creatures, whose crimes have brought them here for
expiation. The thought of breathing the same atmosphere pollutes me.
I think the loathsomeness of perdition must consist in association
with the depraved and wicked. Not the undying flames would affright
me, but the doom of eternal companionship with outcast criminals.
No! No! I would sooner freeze here, than wander in the sunshine with
those hideous wretches I saw the day I was thrust among them."

"Trust me, and I will expose you to nothing unpleasant. Take your
hat and shawl; I shall not bring you back here. There is time enough
for cells when you have been convicted and sentenced; and please
God, you shall never stay in this one again. Come."

"Stay, madam. What is your purpose? I have been so hunted down, I am
growing suspicious of the appearance of kindness. What are you going
to do?"

Mrs. Singleton took her hand and pressed it gently.

"I am going to trust, and help, and love you, if you will let me;
and for the present, I intend to keep you in a room adjoining mine,
where you will have no fear of wicked neighbors."

"That will be merciful indeed. May God bless you for the thought."

Down iron staircases, and through dim corridors bordered with dark
cells, gloomy as the lairs of wild beasts whom the besotted inmates
resembled, the two women walked; and once, when a clank of chains
and a hoarse human cry broke the dismal silence, Beryl clutched her
companion's arm, and her teeth chattered with horror.

"Yes, it is awful! That poor woman is the saddest case we have. She
waylaid and stabbed her husband to death, and poisoned his mother.
We think she is really insane, and as she is dangerous at times, it
is necessary to keep her chained, until arrangements can be made to
remove her to the insane asylum."

"I don't wonder she is mad! People cannot dwell here and retain
their reason; and madness is a mercy that blesses them with
forgetfulness."

Beryl shivered, and her eyes glittered with an unnatural and ominous
brilliance.

The warden's wife paused before a large door with solid iron panels,
and rang a bell. Some one on the other side asked:

"What is the order? Who rang?"

"Mrs. Singleton; I want to get into the chapel. Let me out, Jasper."

The door swung slowly back, and the guard touched his hat
respectfully.

Through an open arcade, where the sunlight streamed, Mrs. Singleton
led her companion; then up a short flight of stone steps, and they
found themselves in a long room, with an altar railing and pulpit at
one end, and rows of wooden benches crossing the floor from wall to
wall. Even here, the narrow windows were iron barred, but sunshine
and the sweet, pure breath of the outside world entered freely.
Within the altar railing, and at the right of the reading desk where
a Bible lay, stood a cabinet organ. Leaving the prisoner to walk up
and down the aisle, Mrs. Singleton opened the organ, drew out the
stops, and after waiting a few moments, began to play.

At first, only a solemn prelude rolled its waves of harmony through
the peaceful sunny room, but soon the strains of the beautiful Motet
"Cast thy burden on the Lord," swelled like the voice of some divine
consoler. Watching the stately figure of the prisoner who wandered
to and fro, the warden's wife noticed that like a magnet the music
drew her nearer and nearer each time she approached the chancel, and
at last she stood with one hand on the railing. The beautiful face,
sharpened and drawn by mental agony, was piteously wan save where
two scarlet spots burned on her cheeks, and the rigid lips were gray
as some granite Statue's, but the eyes glowed with a strange
splendor that almost transfigured her countenance.

On and on glided the soft, subtle variations of the Motet, and
gradually the strained expression of the shining eyes relaxed, as if
the soul of the listener were drifting back from a far-off realm;
the white lids quivered, the stern lines of the pale lips unbent. At
that moment, the face of her father seemed floating on the sunbeams
that gilded the pulpit, and the tones of her mother's voice rang in
her ears. The terrible tension of many days and nights of torture
gave way suddenly, like a silver thread long taut, which snaps with
one last vibration. She raised her hands:

"My God! Why hast Thou forsaken me?"

The cry ended in a wail. Into her burning eyes merciful tears
rushed, and sinking on her knees she rested against the railing,
shaken by a storm of passionate weeping.

Mrs. Singleton felt her own tears falling fast, but she played for a
while longer; then stole out of the chapel, and sat down on the
steps.

Across the grass plot before the door, burnished pigeons cooed, and
trod their stately minuet, their iridescent plumage showing every
opaline splendor as the sunlight smote them; and on a buttress of
the clock tower, a lonely hedge-sparrow poured his heart out in that
peculiarly pathetic threnody which no other feathered throat
contributes to the varied volume of bird lays. Poised on the point
of an iron spike in the line that bristled along the wall, a mocking
bird preened, then spread his wings, soared and finally swept
downward, thrilling the air with the bravura of the "tumbling song";
and over the rampart that shut out the world, drifted the refrain of
a paean to peace:

"Bob White!" "Peas ripe?" "Not quite!"

In the vast epic of the Cosmos, evoked when the "Spirit of God moved
upon the face of the waters"--an epic printed in stars on blue
abysses of illimitable space; in illuminated type of rose leaf,
primrose petal, scarlet berry on the great greenery of field and
forest; in the rainbows that glow on tropical humming birds, on
Himalayan pheasants, on dying dolphins in purple seas; and in all
the riotous carnival of color on Nature's palette, from shifting
glory of summer clouds, to the steady fires of red autumn skies--we
find no blot, no break, no blurred abortive passages, until man
stepped into creation's story. In the material, physical Universe,
the divine rhythm flows on, majestic, serene as when the "morning
stars sing together" in the choral of praise to Him, unto whom "all
seemed good"; but in the moral and spiritual realm evolved by
humanity, what hideous pandemonium of discords drowns the heavenly
harmony? What grim havoc marks the swath, when the dripping scythe
of human sin and crime swings madly, where the lilies of eternal
"Peace on earth, good will to man," should lift their silver
chalices to meet the smile of God?

A vague conception of this vexing problem, which like a huge
carnivorous spectre, flaps its dusky wings along the sky of
sociology, now saddened Mrs. Singleton's meditations, as she watched
the lengthening shadow cast by the tower upon the court-yard; but
she was not addicted to abstract speculation, and the words of her
favorite hymn epitomized her thoughts: "Though every prospect
pleases, and only man is vile."

The brazen clang of the deep-throated bell rang out on the quiet
air, and a moment later, the piercing treble of a child's cry made
her spring to her feet. She peeped into the chapel all was still.

On tiptoe she passed swiftly down the aisle to the chancel, and saw
the figure crouched at the altar, with one arm twined through the
railing. For many days and nights the tortured woman had not known
an instant of repose; nervous dread had scourged her to the verge of
frenzy, but when the flow of long-pent tears partly extinguished the
fire in her brain, overtaxed Nature claimed restitution, and the
prisoner yielded to overwhelming prostration. Death might be
hovering near, but her twin sister sleep intervened, and
compassionately laid her poppies on the snowy eyelids.

Stooping close, Mrs. Singleton saw that tears yet hung on the black
lashes which swept the flushed cheeks, but the parted lips were at
rest, and the deep regularly drawn breath told her that at last the
weary soul reposed in the peaceful domain of dreams. Deftly, and
softly as thistledown falls, she spread her own shawl over the
drooping shoulders, then noiselessly hurried back to the door.
Locking it, she took the key, ran across the grass, into the arcade,
and up to the great iron barrier, which the guard opened as she
approached. With flying feet she neared her own apartments, whence
issued the indignant wail of her implacable baby girl. As she opened
the door, her husband held the disconsolate child toward her.

"You are in time for your share of the fun; I have had enough and to
spare. How you stand this diabolical din day in, day out, passes my
comprehension. You had not been gone fifteen minutes when Missy
tuned up. I patted and, 'She-e-d' her, but she got her head above
cover, squinted around the room, and not finding you, set up a
squall that would have scared a wildcat. The more I patted, the
worse she screamed, and her feet and hands flew around like a wind-
mill. I took her up, and trotted her on my knee, but bless you! she
squirmed like an eel, and her little bald head bobbed up and down
faster than a di-dapper. Then I walked her, but I would as soon try
to swing to a greased snake. She wriggled and bucked, and tied
herself up into a bow knot, and yelled--. Oh! a Comanche papoose is
a dummy to her. As if I had not hands full, arms full, and ears
full, Dick must needs wake up and pitch head foremost out of the
cradle, and turn a double summerset before he landed upside down on
the floor, whereupon he lifted up his voice, and the concert grew
lively. I took him under one arm, so, and laid Missy over my
shoulder, and it struck me I would join the chorus in self defence,
so I opened with all my might on 'Hold the Fort'; but great
Tecumseh! I only insulted them both, and finding my fifth fiddle was
nowhere in the fray, I feared Jarvis would hear the howling and ring
the alarm bell, so I just sat down. I spread out Dick in a soft
place, where he could not bump his brains out, and laying my lady
across my lap, I held her down by main force, while she screamed
till she was black in the face. If you had not come just when you
did, I should have turned gray and cross-eyed. Hello, Missy! If she
is not cooing and laughing! Little vixen! Oh! but--'lambs'!--I
believe they are! Hereafter tend your own flock; and in preference I
will herd young panthers."

He wiped his forehead where the perspiration stood in drops, and
watched with amazement the sudden lull in the tempest.

Clasped in her mother's arms, the baby smiled and gurgled, and Dick,
drying his eyes on the maternal bosom, showed the exact spot where
she must kiss his bruised head.

"Ned, what have you done? This baby's hair is dripping wet, and so
is the neck of her dress."

"Serves her right, too. I sprinkled her, that's all."

"Sprinkled her! Have you lost your senses?"

"Shouldn't wonder if I had; people in bedlam are apt to be crazy.
Yes, I sprinkled Missy, because she turned so black in the face, I
thought she was strangling; and my step-mother always sprinkled me
when I had a fit of tantrums. But let me tell you, Missy will never
be a zealous Baptist, she doesn't take to water kindly."

"When I want my children step-mothered I will let you know. Give me
that towel, and baby's woollen cap hanging on the knob of the
bureau. Bless her precious heart! if she does not keep you up all
night, with the croup, you may thank your stars."

"Susie, just tell me how you tame them, so that next time--"

"Next time, sir, I shall not trust you. I just love them, and they
know it; that is what tames the whole world."

Edward Singleton stooped over his wife, and kissed her rosy cheek.

"Little woman, what luck had you in No. 19?"

"The best I could wish. I have saved that poor girl from brain-
fever, I hope."

"How did you manage it?"

"Just simply because I am a flesh and blood woman, and not a
blundering, cast-iron man."

"How does she seem now?"

"She has had a good, hearty spell of wholesome crying; no hysterics,
mind you, but floods of tears; and now she is sound asleep with her
head on the altar railing, in the chapel. I locked her up there, and
here is the key. When she wakes, I want her brought up here, put in
that room yonder, and left entirely to me, until her trial is over.
I never do things half way, Ned, and you need not pucker your
eyebrows, for I will be responsible for her. I have put my hand to
the plough, and you are not to meddle with the lines, till I finish
my furrow."




CHAPTER VIII.


In one of the "outhouses" which constituted the servants' quarters,
in that which common parlance denominated the "back-yard" at "Elm
Bluff," an old negro woman sat smoking a pipe.

The room which she had occupied for more than forty years, presented
a singular melange of incongruous odds and ends, the flotsam of a
long term of service, where the rewards, if intrinsically
incommensurate, were none the less invaluable, to the proud
recipient. The floor was covered by a faded carpet, once the pride
of the great drawing-room, but the velvet pile had disappeared
beneath the arched insteps and high heels of lovely belles and
haughty beaux, and the scarlet feathers and peacock plumes that
originally glowed on the brilliant buff ground, were no longer
distinguishable.

An old-fashioned piece of furniture, coeval with diamond shoe-
buckles, ruffled shirts and queues, a brass bound mahogany
chiffonier, with brass handles and tall brass feet representing cat
claws, stood in one corner; and across the top was stretched a rusty
purple velvet strip, bordered with tarnished gilt gimp and fringe, a
fragment of the cover which belonged to the harp on which General
Darrington's grandmother had played.

The square bedstead was a marvel in size and massiveness, and the
heavy mahogany posts nearly black with age, and carved like the
twisted strands of a rope, supported a tester lined with turkey-red
pleatings, held in the centre by the talons of a gilt spread-eagle.
So tall was the bed, that three steps were required to ascend it,
and the space thus left between the mahogany and the floor, was
hidden by a valance of white dimity, garnished with wide cotton
fringe. Over this spacious place of repose, a patchwork quilt of the
"rising sun" pattern displayed its gaudy rays, resembling some
sprawling octopus, rather than the face of Phoebus.

The contents of a wide mantel board flounced with fringed dimity,
(venerable prototype of macrame and Arrasene lambrequins), would
have filled with covetousness the soul of the bric-a-brac devotee;
and graced the counters of Sypher.

There were burnished brass candle-sticks, with extinguishers in the
shape of prancing griffins, and snuffers of the same metal,
fashioned after the similitude of some strange and presumably
extinct saurian; and a Dresden china shepherdess, whose shattered
crook had long since disappeared, peeped coquettishly through the
engraved crystal of a tall candle shade at the bloated features of a
mandarin, on a tea-pot with a cracked spout--that some Darrington,
stung by the gad-fly of travel, had brought to the homestead from
Nanking. A rich blue glass vase poised on the back of a bronze swan,
which had lost one wing and part of its bill in the combat with
time, hinted at the rainbow splendors of its native Prague, and
bewailed the captivity that degraded its ultra-marine depths into a
receptacle for cut tobacco.

The walls, ceiled with curled pine planks, were covered with a
motley array of pasted and tacked pictures; some engraved, many
colored, and ranging in comprehensiveness of designs, from Bible
scenes cut from magazines, to "riots" in illustrated papers; and
even the garish glory of circus and theatre posters.

In one corner stood an oak spinning-wheel, more than centenarian in
age, fallen into hopeless desuetude, but gay with the strings of
scarlet pepper pods hung up to dry, and twined among its silent
spokes. On a trivet provided with lizard feet that threatened to
crawl away, rested a copper kettle bereft of its top, once the idol
of three generations of Darringtons, to whom it had liberally
dispensed "hot water tea," in the blessed dead and embalmed era of
nursery rule and parental power; now eschewed with its despised use,
and packed to the brim with medicinal "yarbs," bone-set, horse mint,
life everlasting, and snake-root.

In front of the fire which roared and crackled in the cavernous
chimney, "Mam' Dyce" rocked slowly, enjoying her clay pipe, and
meditatively gazing up at an engraved portrait of "Our First
President," suspended on the wall. It was appropriately framed in
black, and where the cord that held it was twined around a hook, a
bow and streamers of very brown and rusty crape fluttered, when a
draught entered the apartment.

Obese in form, and glossy black in complexion, "Mam' Dyce" retained
in old age the scrupulous neatness which had characterized her
youth, when promoted to the post of seamstress and ladies' maid, she
had ruled the servants' realm at "Elm Bluff" with a sway as
autocratic as that of Catherine over the Muscovites. Her black
calico dress, donned as mourning for her master, was relieved by a
white apron tied about the ample waist; a snowy handkerchief was
crossed over the vast bosom, and a checked white and black turban
skilfully wound in intricate folds around her gray head, terminated
in a peculiar knot, which was the pride of her toilet. A beautiful
spotted pointer dog with ears like brown satin, was lying asleep
near the fire, but suddenly he lifted his head, rose, stretched
himself and went to the door. A moment later it opened, and the
whilom major-domo, Abednego, came in; put his stick in one corner,
hung his hat on a wooden peg, and approached the fireplace.

"Well, ole man; you know I tole you so."

"You wimmen would ruther say that, than eat pound cake. Supposin'
you did tell me, what's the upshot?"

"That gimlet-eyed weasel is snuffing round you and me; but we won't
turn out to be spring chickens, ready picked."

"Which is to signify that Miss Angerline smells a mouse? Don't talk
parables, Dyce. What's she done now?"

"She is hankering after that hankchiff. 'Pears to me, if she only
went on four legs 'sted of two, she would sell high for a
bloodhound."

"Great Nebuckadanzer! How did she find out?"

"Don't ax me; ax the witches what she has in cahoot. I always tole
you, she had the eyes of a cunjor, and she has sarched it out. Says
she saw you when you found it; which ain't true. Eavesdrapping is
her trade; she was fotch up on it, and her ears fit a key-hole, like
a bung plugs a barrel. She has eavesdrapped that hankchiff chat of
our'n somehow. Wuss than that, Bedney, she sot thar this evening and
faced me down, that I was hiding something else; that I picked up
something on the floor and hid it in my bosom, after the crowner's
inquess. Sez I: 'Well, Miss Angerline, you had better sarch me and
be done with it, if you are the judge, and the jury, and the
crowner, and the law, and have got the job to run this case.' Sez
she, a-squinting them venomous eyes of her'n, till they looked like
knitting needles red hot: 'I leave the sarching to be done by the
cunstable--when you are 'rested and handcuffed for 'betting of
murder.' Then my dander riz. Sez I, 'Crack your whip and go ahead!
You know how, seeing you is the offspring of a Yankee overseer, what
my marster, Gin'l Darrington, had 'rested for beating one of our
wimen, on our 'Bend' plantation. You and your pa is as much alike,
as two shrivelled cow peas out'en one pod. Fetch your cunstable, and
help yourselves.'"

Dyce rose, knocked the ashes out of her pipe, and stood like a dusky
image of an Ethiopian Bellona.

"Drat your servigerous tongue! Now the fat's in the fire, to be sho!
Ever since I tuck you for better for wuss, I have been trying to
larn you 'screshun! and I might as well 'a wasted my time picking a
banjo for a dead jackass tu dance by; for you have got no more
'screshun than old Eve had, in confabulating with the old adversary!
Why couldn't you temperlize? Sassing that white 'oman, is a
aggervating mistake."

Under ordinary circumstances, Bedney and Dyce prided themselves on
the purity of their diction, and they usually abstained from
plantation dialect; but when embarrassed, frightened or excited,
they invariably relapsed into the lingo of the "Quarters."

"Hush! What's that? A screech owull! Bedney, turn your pocket."

With marvellous swiftness she plunged her hand into her dress
pocket, and turned it wrong side out, scattering the contents--
thimble, thread, two "scalybarks," and some "ground peas" over the
floor. Then stooping, she slipped off one shoe, turned it upside
down, and hung it thus on a horseshoe fastened to the mantel board.

"Just lem'me know when you have appinted to hold your sarching, and
I will make it convenient to have bizness consarning that bunch of
horgs and cattle, I am raising on shares in the 'Bend' plantation:
and you can have your sarching frolic," said Bedney, too angry to
heed the superstitious rites.

Dyce made a warning gesture, and listened intently.

"I am a-thinking you will be chief cook and bottle-washer at that
sarching, for the appintment is at hand. Don't you hear Pilot baying
the cunstable?"

She sank into her rocking-chair, picked up a gray yarn sock, and
began to knit unconcernedly; but in a significant tone, she added,
nodding her head:

"Hold your own hand, Bedney; don't be pestered about mine. I'll hoe
my row; you 'tend to yourn."

Then she leaned back, plying her knitting needles, and began to
chant: "Who will be the leader when the Bridegroom comes?"

Hearing the knock on the door, her voice swelled louder, and Bedney,
the picture of perplexity, stood filling his pipe, when the bolt was
turned, and a gentleman holding a whip and wearing a long overcoat
entered the room.

"Good evening, Bedney. Are you and Dyce holding a camp meeting all
by yourselves? I hallooed at the gate till your dog threatened to
devour me, and I had to scare him off with my buggy whip."

"Why, how'dy, Mars Alfred? I am mighty glad to see you! Seems like
old times, to shake hands with you in my cabin. Lem'me take off your
overcoat, sir, and gim'me your hat, and make yourself comfortable,
here by the jam of the chimbly."

"No, Bedney, I can't spare the time, and I only want a little
business matter settled before I get back to town to my office.
Thank you, Dyce, this is an old-time rocker sure enough. It is a
regular 'Sleepy Hollow.'"

Mr. Churchill pushed back his hat, and held his gloved hand toward
the fire.

"Bedney, I want to see that handkerchief you found in your master's
room, the day after he was murdered."

"What hankchuf, Marse Alfred? I done tole everything I know, to the
Crowner's inquess."

"I dare say you did; but something was found afterward. I want to
see it."

"Who has been villifying of me? You have knowed me ever since you
was knee-high to a duck, and I--."

"Nobody has vilified you, but Miss Dobbs saw you examining
something, which she says you pushed up your coat sleeve. She thinks
it was a handkerchief, but it may have been valuables. Now it is my
duty, as District Solicitor, to discover and prosecute the person
who killed your master, and you ought to render me every possible
assistance. Any unwillingness to give your testimony, or surrender
the articles found, will cast suspicion on you, and I should be
sorry to have you arrested."

"Fore Gord, Marse Alfred, I--"

"Own up, husband. You did find a hankchef. You see, Marse Alfred, we
helped to raise that poor young gal's mother; and Bedney and me was
'votedly attached to our young Mistiss, Miss Ellie, and we thought
ole Marster was too hard on her, when she run off with the furrin
fiddler; so when this awful 'fliction fell upon us and everybody was
cusing Miss Ellie's child of killing her own grandpa, we couldn't
believe no such onlikely yarn, and Bedney and me has done swore our
vow, we will stand by that poor young creetur, for her ma's sake;
for our young mistiss was good to us, and our heart strings was
'rapped round her. We does not intend, if we can help it, to lend a
hand in jailing Miss Ellie's child, and so, after the Crowner had
'liceted all the facts as he said, and the verdict was made up,
Bedney and me didn't feel no crampings in our conscience, about
holding our tongues. Another reason why we wanted to lay low in this
hiere bizness, was that we didn't hanker after sitting on the
anxious seats of witnesses in the court-house; and being called
ongodly thieves, and perjured liars, and turned wrong side out by
the lie-yers, and told our livers was white, and our hearts blacker
than our skins. Marse Alfred, Bedney and me are scared of that
court; what you call the law, cuts curous contarabims sometimes, and
when the broad axe of jestice hits, there is no telling whar the
chips will fly; it's wuss than hull-gull, or pitching heads and
tails. You are a lie-yer, Marse Alfred, and you know how it is
yourself; and I beg your pardon, sir, for slighting the perfession;
but when I was a little gal, I got my scare of lie-yers, and it has
stuck to me like a kuckleburrow. One Christmas eve jest before ole
Marster got married, he had a egg-nog party; and a lot of gentlemen
was standing 'round the table in the dining-room. One of 'em was ole
Mr. Dunbar, Marse Lennox' father, and he axed ole Marster if he had
saved that game rooster for him, as he promised, Marster told him he
was very sorry, but some rogue had done gone and burnt some sulphur
the week before in his henhouse, and bagged that 'dentical rooster.
Presently Mr. Dunbar axed if Marster would let him have one of the
blue hen's roosters, if he would catch the rogue for him before
midnight. Of course Marster said he would. Mr. Dunbar (Marse Lennox'
pa), he was practicing law then, had a pot full of smut on the
bottom, turned upside down on the dining-room flo', and he and
Marster went out to the hen-'ouse and got a dominicker rooster and
shoved him under the pot. Then they rung the bell, and called every
darkey on the place into the dining-room, and made us stand in a
line. I was a little gal then, only so high, but I followed my daddy
in the house, and I never shall disremember that night, 'cause it
broke up our home preachment. Mr. Dunbar made a speech, and the
upshot of it was, that every darkey was to walk past the pot and rub
his finger in the smut; and he swore a solemn oath, that when the
pusson that stole that fine game rooster, touched the pot, the
dominicker rooster would crow. As Marster called our names, we every
one marched out and rubbed the pot, and when all of us had tried,
the rooster hadn't crowed. Mr. Dunbar said there was some mistake
somewhere, and he made us step up and show hands, and make prints on
his hankcher; and lo, and behold! one darkey had not touched the
pot; his forefinger was clean; so Mr. Dunbar says, 'Luke, here is
your thief?' and shore 'nuff, it was our preacher, and he owned up.
I never forgot that trick, and from that day 'till now, I have been
more scared of a lie-yer, than I am of a mad dog. They is the only
perfession that the Bible is agin, for you know they jawed our Lord
hisself, and he said, 'Woe! woe! to you lie-yers.' Now, Marse
Alfred, if you have made up your mind you are gwine to have that
hankcher, it will be bound to come; for if it was tied to a
millstone and drapped in the sea, you lie-yers would float it into
court; so Bedney, jest perduce what you found."

"That is right, Dyce; I am glad your opinion of my profession has
forced you to such a sensible conclusion. Come, Bedney, no balking
now."

Perplexed by Dyce's tactics, Bedney stood irresolute, with his half-
filled pipe slipping from his fingers; and he stared at his wife for
a few seconds, hoping that some cue would be furnished.

"Bedney, there's no use in being cantankerous. If you won't perduce
it, I will."

Plunging her hand into the blue glass bowl, she pushed aside the
tobacco, and extracted a key; then crossed the room, lifted the
valance of the patriarchal bed, and dragged out a small, old-
fashioned hair trunk, ornamented with stars and diamonds of brass
tack heads. Drawing it across the floor, she sat down near Mr.
Churchill, and bending over, unlocked and opened it. After removing
many articles of clothing, and sundry heirlooms, she lifted from the
bottom a bundle, which she laid on her lap, and edging her chair
closer to the Solicitor, proceeded to unfold the contents. The
outside covering was a richly embroidered Canton crape shawl,
originally white, now yellow as old ivory; but when this was
unwrapped, there appeared only an ordinary sized brown gourd, with a
long and singularly curved handle, as crooked as a ram's horn.
Bending one of her knitting needles into a hook, Dyce deftly
inserted it in the neck, where it joined the bowl, and after
manoeuvring a few seconds, laid down the needle, and with the aid of
her thumb and forefinger slowly drew out a long roll, tightly
wrapped with thread. Unwinding it, she shook the roll, and a small,
gray object, about two inches long, dropped into her lap. Mr.
Churchill sat leaning a little forward, as if intent on Dyce's
movements, but his elbow rested on the arm of the rocking chair, and
holding his hand up to screen his face from the blaze of the fire,
he was closely watching Bedney. When Dyce shook out and held up a
faded, dingy blue silk handkerchief, the lawyer noted a sudden
twinkle in the old man's eyes, but no other feature moved, and he
stooped to take a coal of fire from the hearth.

"There is the hankchuf that Bedney found. But mebbe you don't know
what this is, that I wrapped up in it, to bring us good luck?"

She spread the handkerchief over his knee, and held up the small
gray furry object, which had fallen from its folds.

"Rabbit's foot? Let me see; yes, that is the genuine left hind foot.
I know all about it, because when my regiment was ordered to the
front, my old colored Mammy--Ma'm Judy--who nursed me, sewed one
just like that, inside the lining of my coat skirt. But, Dyce, that
rabbit's foot was not worth a button; for the very first battle I
was in, a cannon ball killed my horse under me, and carried away my
coat tail--rabbit's foot and all. Don't pin your faith to left hind
feet, they are fatal frauds. You are positive, this is the
handkerchief Bedney found? It smells of asafoetida and camphor, and
looks like it had recently been tied around somebody's sore throat."

"Marse Alfred, I will swear on a stack of Bibles high as the
'Piscopal church steeple, that Bedney Darrington gim'me that same
blue hankcher, and he said he found it. I wasn't with him when he
found it, but I hardly think he would 'a stole a' old rag like that.
I have perduced it! now if you want to sarch behind it, you must
tackle Bedney."

She resumed her knitting and her lips closed like the spring of a
steel trap.

"Dyce, I haven't heard the rooster crow yet. Somebody has fought shy
of the pot. See here, I am in earnest now, and I will give you both
a friendly word of warning. Your actions are so suspicious, that
unless you produce the real article you found, I shall be obliged to
send you to jail, and try you for the murder. How do I know that you
and Bedney are not the guilty parties, instead of General
Darrington's granddaughter? This soiled rag will impose neither upon
me, nor upon the court, and I give you five minutes to put into my
possession the real genuine handkerchief. I shall know it when I see
it, because it is white, with red spots on the border."

"Paddle your own 'dug out,' Bedney, and show your s'creshun. If
Marse Alfred wants to set the red-eyed hounds of the Law on an
innocent 'oman, let him blow his horn."

She knitted assiduously, and looked composedly at her husband, whose
lower jaw had suddenly fallen, while his eyelids blinked nervously,
as though attacked by St. Vitus' dance.

"Only five minutes, Bedney."

Mr. Churchill took out his watch, and held it open.

"You see, Marse Alfred, I--"

"I don't see anything but an infernal fraud you two have planned.
Only three minutes more. There is a constable waiting at the gate,
and if he can not persuade you to--"

"Bedney, step and fetch him in, and let Marse Alfred see the
sarching job done up all right."

"No, I don't hunt foxes that way. Instead of searching this cabin,
we will just march you both instanter out of these comfortable
quarters, and let you try how soft the beds are, at the 'State
boarding-house.' You will sleep cold on iron bunks, and miss your
feathers and your crazy quilts. Time's up."

He closed his watch, with a snap, and rose as he returned it to his
pocket.

"Hold on, Marse Alfred! My head ain't hard enough to run it plum
into a wolf's jaws. I ain't 'sponsible for nobody's acts but my own,
and if Dyce have committed a pius fraud, in this here hank'cher
bizness, to screen Miss Ellie's child, why, you see yourself, I had
no hand in it. I did find that blue 'rag,' as you seen fit to call
it, but it was nigh on to twenty years ago. when I pulled it out of
the breast pocket of a dead Yankee officer, we found lying across a
cannon, what my old Marster's regiment captured at the battle of
Manassas. I gin it to my wife as a screw-veneer o' the war and she
have treasured it accordin'. You are a married man yourself, Marse
Alfred, and you are obleedged to know that wedlock is such a tight
partnership, that it is an awfully resky thing for a man to so much
as bat his eyes, or squint 'em, toward the west, when the wife of
his bosom has set her'n to the east. I have always 'lowed Dyce her
head, 'pecially in jokes like that one she was playing on you just
now, 'cause St. John the Baptist said a man must forsake father and
mother and cleave unto his wife; but conjugular harness is one
thing, and the law is another, and I don't hanker after forsaking my
pine-knot fire, and feather bed, to cleave unto jail bars, and
handcuffs. I see you are tired of Dyce's jokes, and you mean
bizzness; and I don't intend to consume no more of your valuable
solicitous time. Dyce, fetch me that plank bottom cher to stand on."

"Fetch it yourself. Paddling your own canoe, means headin' for the
mill dam."

Bedney hastened to procure the designated chair, which he mounted in
front of the mantel piece, and thence reaching up to the portrait of
President Lincoln, took it carefully down from the hook. With the
blade of his pocket-knife, he loosened some tacks which secured the
thin pine slats at the back of the picture, and removed them. He
took everything from the frame, and blank dismay seized him, when
the desired object was nowhere visible.

"Marse Alfred, I swear I tacked that hank'cher in the back of this
here portrait, between the pasteboard and the brown paper, only
yestiddy; and 'fore Gord! I haint seen it since."

Grasping his wife's shoulder, be shook her, until her tall turban
quivered and bent over like the Tower of Pisa, and Mr. Churchill saw
that in his unfeigned terror, drops of perspiration broke out on his
wrinkled forehead.

"Have you turned idjut, that you want us both to be devoured by the
roarin' lion of the Law? My mammy named me Bedney, not Dani-yell,
and she had oughter, for Gord knows, you have kept me in a fiery
furnace ever since I tuck you for better for wurser, mostly wurser.
I want that hank'cher, and you'd better believe--I want it quick. I
found it, and I'm gwine to give it up; and you have got no right to
jeppardy my life, if you are fool enough to resk your own stiff
neck. Gim'me that hank'cher! Fantods is played out. I would ruther
play leap frog over a buzz-saw than--than--pester and rile Marse
Alfred, and have the cunstable clawing my collar."

"You poor, pitiful, rascally, cowardly creetur! Whar's that oath you
done swore, to help 'fend Miss Ellie's child? And you a deacon, high
in the church! If I had found that hank'cher, I would hide it, till
Gabriel's horn blows; and I would go to jail or to Jericho; and
before I would give testimony agin my dear young Mistiss's poor
friendless gal, I would chaw my tongue into sassage meat. That's the
diffunce between a palavering man full of 'screshun, and a 'oman who
means what she says; and will stand by her word, if it rains fire
and brimstone. Betrayin' and denying the innercent, has been men's
work, ever since the time of Judas and Peter. Now, Marse Alfred,
Bedney did tack the hank'cher inside the portrait of President
Linkum, 'cause we thought that was the saftest place, but I knowed
the house would be sarched, so I jest hid it in a better place.
Since he ain't showed no more backbone than a saucer of blue-mange,
I shall have to give it up; but if I had found it, you would never
set your two eyes on it, while my head is warm."

She stooped, lifted the wide hem of her black calico skirt, and
proceeded to pick out the stitches which held it securely. When she
had ripped the thread about a quarter of a yard, she raised the edge
of the unusually deep hem, and drew out a white handkerchief with a
colored border.

Bedney snatched it from her, and handed it to the Solicitor, who
leaned close to the fire, and carefully examined it. As he held it
up by the corners, his face became very grave and stern, and he
sighed.

"This is evidently a lady's handkerchief, and is so important in the
case, that I shall keep it until the trial is over. Bedney, come to
my office by nine o'clock to-morrow, as the Grand Jury may ask you
some questions. Good bye, Dyce, shake hands; for I honor your
loyalty to your poor young mistress, and her unfortunate child. You
remind me of my own old mammy. Dear good soul, she was as true as
steel."

As Mr. Churchill left the house, Bedney accompanied him to the gate.
When he returned, the door was locked. In vain he demanded
admittance; in vain tried the windows; every entrance was securely
barred, and though he heard Dyce moving about within, she deigned no
answer to his earnest pleadings, his vehement expostulations, or his
fierce threats of summary vengeance. The remainder of that night was
spent by Pilot and his irate master in the great hay bin of the "Elm
Bluff" stables. When the sun rose next morning, Bedney rushed
wrathful as Achilles, to resent his wrongs. The door of his house
stood open; a fire glowed on the well swept hearth, where a pot of
boiling coffee and a plate of biscuit welcomed him; but Dyce was
nowhere visible, and a vigorous search soon convinced him she had
left home on some pressing errand.

Two hours later, Mrs. Singleton opened the door of the small room
adjoining her own bedchamber, to which she had insisted upon
removing the prisoner.

Beryl stood leaning against the barred window, and did not even turn
her head.

"Here is a negro woman, begging to see you for a few moments. She
says she is an old family servant of General Darrington's."

Standing with her back toward the door, the prisoner put out one
hand with a repellent gesture:

"I have surely suffered enough from General Darrington and his
friends; and I will see nobody connected with that fatal place,
which has been a curse to me."

"Just as you please; but old Auntie here, says she nursed your
mother, and on that account wants to see you."

Without waiting for permission, Dyce darted past the warden's wife,
into the room, and almost before Beryl was aware of her presence,
stood beside her.

"Are you Miss Ellie's daughter?"

Listlessly the girl turned and looked at her, and Dyce threw her
arms around her slender waist, and falling on her knees hid her face
in Beryl's dress, sobbing passionately. In the violence of her
emotion, she rocked back and forth, swaying like a reed in some
fierce blast the tall form, to whom she clung.

"Oh, my lovely! my lovely! To think you should be shut up here! To
see Miss Ellie's baby jailed, among the off-scourings of the earth!
Oh, you beautiful white deer! tracked and tore to pieces by wolves,
and hounds, and jackalls! Oh, honey! Just look straight at me, like
you was facing your accusers before the bar of God, and tell me you
didn't kill your grandpa. Tell me you never dipped your pretty hands
in ole Marster's blood."

Tears were streaming down Dyce's cheeks.

"If you knew my mother, how can you think it possible her child
could commit an awful crime?"

"Oh, God knows--I don't know what to think! 'Peers to me the world
is turned upside down. You see, honey, you are half and half; and
while I am perfectly shore of Miss Ellie's half of you, 'cause I can
always swear to our side, the Darrington in you, I can't testify
about your pa's side; he was a--a--"

"He was as much a gentleman, as my mother was a lady; and I would
rather be his daughter, than call a king my father."

"I believe you! There ain't no drop of scrub blood in you, as I can
see, and if you ain't thoroughbred, 'pearances are deceitful. I
loved your ma; I loved the very ground her little feet trod on. I
fed her out of my own plate many a time, 'cause she thought her
Mammy's vittils was sweeter than what Mistiss 'lowed her to have;
and she have slept in my bosom, and these arms have carried her, and
hugged her, and--and--oh, Lord God A'mighty! it most kills me to see
you, her own little baby here! In this awful, cussed den of thieves
and villi-yans! Oh, honey! for God's sake, just gin me some 'surance
you are as pure as you look; just tell me your soul is a lily, like
your face."

Beryl stooped, put her hand on the turbaned head, and bending it
back, so as to look down into the swimming eyes, answered:

"If I had died when I was a month old, my baby soul would not have
faced God any more innocent of crime then, than I am to-day. I had
no more to do with taking General Darrington's money and his life,
than the archangels in Heaven."

"Bless God! Now I am satisfied. Now I see my way clare. But it sets
my blood afire to see you here; it's a burning shame to put my dear
young Mistiss' child in this beasts' cage. I can't help thinking of
that poor beautiful white deer, what Marster found crippled, down at
our 'Bend' Plantation, that some vagabond had shot. Marster fotch it
up home, and of all the pitifulist sights!"

Dyce had risen, and covering her face with her white apron, she wept
for some minutes.

"Are you not the wife of Bedney, who saved my mother's life, when
the barn burned?"

"Yes, honey, I am Mam' Dyce, and if I am spared, I will try to save
your'n. That is what has brung me here. You are 'cused of the
robb'ry and the murder, and you have denied it in the court; but
chile, the lie-yers are aworking day and night fur to hang you, and
little is made of much, on your side, and much is spun out of
little, on theirn. They are more cunning than foxes, and
bloodthirstier than panters, and they no more git tired than the
spiders, that spin and piece a web as fast as you break it. Three
nights ago, I got down on my knees, and I kissed a little pink
morocco slipper what your Ma wore the day when she took her first
step from my arm to her own mother's knees, and I swore a solemn
oath, if I could help free Miss Ellie's child, I would do it. Now I
want to ask you one thing. Did you lose anything that day you come
to our house, and had the talk with old Marster?"

"Nothing, but my peace and happiness."

"Are you shore you didn't drap your hank'cher?"

"Yes, I am sure I did not, because I wrapped it around some
chrysanthemums I gathered as I went away."

"Well, a lady's hank'cher was found in Marster's room, and it did
smell of chloryform. Bedney picked it up, and we said nothing and
laid low, and hid the thing; but that Godforsaken and predestinated
sinner, Miss Angeline, kept sarching and eavesdrapping, and set the
lie-yers on the scent, and they have 'strained Bedney on peril of
jailing him, to perduce it. When it got into their claws, and I
thought it might belonk to you, my teeth chattered, and I felt like
the back of my frock was a ice-warehouse. Now, honey, can you
testify before God and man, that hank'cher ain't yourn?"

"I certainly can. I had only three handkerchiefs with me when I left
home, and I have them still. Here is one, the other two lie yonder.
But that handkerchief is worth everything; because it must belong to
the vile wretch who committed the crime, and it will help to prove
my innocence. Where is it?"

"The Grand Jury is setting on it."

Here Dyce looked cautiously around, and tip-toed to the door;
finding it ajar, closed it, then stole back. Putting her lips close
to Beryl's ear, she whispered:

"Did you lose a sleeve button?"

"No. I did not wear any."

"Thank God! I feel like all the bricks in the court-house was lifted
off my heart, and flung away. I was in fear and trimbling about that
button, 'cause I picked it up, just under the aidge of the rug,
where ole Marster fell, when he got his death blow; and as sure as
the coming of the Judgment Day, it was drapped by the pusson who
killed him. I was so afeared it might belonk to you, that I have
been on the anxious seat ever since I found it; and I concluded the
safest way was to bring it here to you. I am scared to keep it at
home, 'cause them yelping wolves as wears the sheepskins of Justice,
are on my tracks. I would never give it up, if I was chopped to
mince meat; but Bedney ain't got no more than enuff backbone for
half of a man, and the lie-yers discomfrizzle him so, I could not
trust him, when it comes to the scratch. Now that button is worth a
heap, and I am precious careful of it. Look here."

She took from her pocket two large pods of red pepper, which looked
exactly alike, but the end of one had been cut out around the stem,
then neatly fitted back, and held in place by some colorless cement.
Beckoning Beryl to follow, Dyce went closer to the window, and with
the aid of her teeth drew out the stem. Into her palm rolled a
circular button of some opaque reddish-brown substance, resembling
tortoise shell, and enamelled with gilt bunches of grapes, and
inlaid leaves of mother-of-pearl. Across the top, embossed in gilt
letters ran the word "Ricordo."

The old woman lifted her open palm, and as Beryl saw the button, a
gasping, gurgling sound broke from her. She snatched it, stared at
it. Then the Gorgon head slipped through her fingers, she threw
herself against the window, shook the iron bar frantically; and one
desperate cry seemed to tear its way through her clinched teeth,
over her ashy lips:

"Oh, Mother! Mother--Mother! You are nailing me to a cross."




CHAPTER IX.


Nowhere in the vast vista of literature is there an episode more
exquisitely pathetic than that serene picture of the Grove at
Colonus, sacred to the "Semnai Theai;" where the dewy freshness, the
floral loveliness, the spicery, and all the warbling witchery of
nature pay tribute to the Avenging Goddesses.

Twenty-two centuries have sifted their dust over the immortal
figures seated on the marble bench within the precincts consecrated
to the Eumenides, but in deathless tenacity, the rich aroma of
Sophocles' narcissus, and the soft crocus light linger there still;
while from thickets of olive, nightingales break their hearts in
song, as thrilling as the melody that smote the ears of doomed and
dying Oedipus.

So in all ages, we, born thralls of grief, lift streaming eyes, and
chant elegies to stony-hearted Mother-Earth, but her starry orbs
shine on, undimmed by sympathetic tears; her smiling lips show only
sunshine in their changeless dimples, and her myriad fingers
sweeping the keys of the Universal Organ, drown our De Profundis in
the rhythmic thunders of her Jubilate. Wailing children of Time, we
crouch and tug at the moss-velvet, daisy-sprinkled skirts of the
mighty Mater, praying some lullaby from her to soothe our pain; but
human woe frets not her sublime serenity, as deaf as desert sphinx,
she fronts the future.

Some echo of this maddening mystery sounded in the ears of the
lonely woman, who clutched the bars of her dungeon, and stared
through its iron lattice, at the peaceful, happy, outside world. At
her feet lay X---, divided by the silvery river, which, here rushed
with arrowy swiftness under the gray stone arches of the bridge, and
there widened into glassy lakelets, as if weary from the mad plunge
over a distant rocky ledge in mid-stream, whence the dull steady
roar of the "falls" thrilled the atmosphere, like the "tremolo" in a
dim cathedral, where fading daylight dies on painted apse and gilded
pipes. As a chessboard the squares of buildings were spread out,
defined by wide streets, where humanity and its traffic sped, busy
as ants. In a green plot, the sombre facade of the court-house
surmounted by an eyeless stone statue of Justice, frowned on the
frivolous throng below; and along the verge of the common, marble
fingers pointed up to the heaven of blue that bent above "God's
Acre"; while now and then, bulbous towers, and glittering steeple
vanes, caught the sunshine on their polished crests. Beyond the
whole, and bounding the valley filled with a billowy sea of bluish-
green pine tops, rose a wooded eminence, wearing still its Persian
robe of autumn foliage, and on its brow the colonnade and chimneys
of "Elm Bluff" blotted the southern sky, like a threatening phantom.

To-day forest, stream, earth and sky, appeared branded with one
fatal word, as if the world's wide page held only "Ricordo!
Ricordo!"

Beryl shut her eyes and groaned; but the scene merely shifted to a
dell under the shadow of Carrara hills, where olives set "Ricordo"
among their silver leaves; and lemons painted "Ricordo" in their
pale gold; and scarlet pomegranates and nodding violets, burning
anemones and tender green of trailing maiden-hair ferns all blazoned
"Ricordo."

The fierce tide of wrath, that indignation and her keen sense of
outraged innocence had poured like molten lead through her throbbing
arteries, was oozing sluggishly, congealing under the awful spell of
that one word "Ricordo." Hitherto, the shame of the suspicion, the
degradation of the imprisonment had caught and empaled her thoughts;
but by degrees, these became dwarfed by the growing shadow of a
possibly ignominious death, which spread its sable pinions along the
rosy dawn of her womanhood, and devoured the glorious sun of her
high hopes. The freezing gloom was creeping nearer, and to-day she
could expect no succor, save by one avenue.

Islam believes that only the cimeter edge of Al Sirat divides
Paradise from perdition. Beryl realized that in her peril, she trod
an equally narrow snare, over yawning ruin, holding by a single
thread of hope that handkerchief. Weak natures shiver and
procrastinate, shunning confirmation of their dread; but to this
woman had come a frantic longing to see, to grasp, to embrace the
worst. She was in a death grapple with appalling fate, and that
handkerchief would decide the issue.

Physical exhaustion was following close upon the mental agony that
had stretched her on the rack, for so many days and nights. To sit
still was impossible, yet in her wandering up and down the narrow
room, she reeled, and sometimes staggered against the wall, dizzy
from weakness, to which she would not succumb.

Human help was no more possible for her, than for Moses, when he
climbed Nebo to die; and alone with her God, the brave soul
wrestled. Wearily she leaned against the window bars, twining her
hot fingers around them, pressing her forehead to the cold barrier;
and everywhere "Ricordo" stabbed her eyes like glowing steel.

The door opened, some words were uttered in an undertone, then the
bolt clicked in its socket, and Mr. Dunbar approached the window.
Mechanically Beryl glanced over her shoulder, and a shiver crept
across her.

"I believe you know me. Dunbar is my name."

He stood at her side, and they looked into each other's eyes, and
measured lances. Could this worn, pallid woman, be the same person
who in the fresh vigor of her youthful beauty, had suggested to him
on the steps of "Elm Bluff," an image of Hygeia? Here insouciante
girlhood was dead as Manetho's dynasties, and years seemed to have
passed over this auburn head since he saw it last. Human faces are
Nature's highest type of etchings, and mental anguish bites deeper
than Dutch mordant; heart-ache is the keen needle that traces finest
lines.

"Yes, I know you only too well. You are Tiberius."

Her luminous deep eyes held his at bay, and despite his habitual,
haughty equipoise, her crisp tone of measureless aversion stung him.

"Sarcasm is an ill-selected arbiter between you and me; and your
fate for all time, your future weal or woe is rather a costly
shuttlecock to be tossed to and fro in a game of words. I do not
come to bandy phrases, and in view of your imminent peril, I cannot
quite understand your irony."

"Understand me? You never will. Did the bloodthirsty soul of
Tiberius comprehend the stainless innocence of the victims he
crushed for pastime on the rocks below Villa Jovis? There is but one
arbiter for your hatred, the hang-man, to whom you would so gladly
hurry me. Hunting a woman to the gallows is fit sport for men of
your type."

Unable to withdraw his gaze from the magnetism of hers, he frowned
and bit his lip. Was she feigning madness, or under the terrible
nervous strain, did her mind wander?

"Your language is so enigmatical, that I am forced to conclude you
resort to this method of defence. The exigencies of professional
duty compel me to assume toward you an attitude, as painfully
embarrassing to me as it is threatening to you. Because the stern
and bitter law of justice sometimes entails keen sorrow upon those
who are forced to execute her decrees, is it any less obligatory
upon the appointed officers to obey the solemn behests?"

"Justice! Into what a frightful mockery have such as you degraded
her worship! No wonder justice fled to the stars. You are the
appointed officer of a harpy screaming for the blood of the
innocent. How dare you commit your crimes, raise your red hands, in
the sacred name of justice? Call yourself the priest of a frantic
vengeance, for whom some victim must be provided; and libel no more
the attribute of Jehovah."

Scorn curled her lips, and beneath her glowing eyes, his grew
restless, as panoplied in conscious innocence she seemed to defy
attack.

"You evidently credit me with motives of personal animosity, which
would alike disgrace my profession and my manhood. For your sake,
rather than my own, I should like to remove this erroneous
impression from your mind. If you could only understand--"

She threw up her hand, with an imperious gesture of disdain.

"Save your sophistries; they are wasted here. Why multiply cobwebs?
I understand you. If doves have a sixth sense that warns them before
they hear the hawk's cry, or discern the shadow of his circling
wings, and if mice, dumb in a cat's claws, surmise the exact value
of the preliminary caresses, the graceful antics, the fatal fondling
of the velvet paw, so we, the prey of legal 'Justice' know
instinctively what the swinging of censers, and the chanting of her
high priest mean, when he draws near us. I understand you. You
intend to hang me if you can."

He drew his breath with a hissing sound, and a dark flush Stained
his broad smooth brow.

"On my honor as a gentleman, I came here to-day solely to--"

"Solely to assure yourself of some doubtful link you must weld into
your chain; solely to plunge the scalpel of some double-edged
question. If there must be an ante mortem examination, we will wait,
if you please, for the legal dissection when I am stretched before
the jury-box. Until then, you have no right to intrude upon the
misery you have brought on an innocent woman."

They stood so near each other, that he could count the fierce
throbbing of the artery in her round snowy throat, and see the
shadow of her long lashes; and again some electric current flashed
from her feverishly bright eyes, burning its way to the secret
chambers of his selfish heart, melting the dross that ambition and
greed had slowly cemented, and dropping one deathless spark into a
deep adytum, of the existence of which he had never even dreamed.
Unconsciously he leaned toward her, but she pressed back against the
iron bars, and drew her dress aside as if shunning a leper. There
was no petulance in the motion, but its significance pricked him,
like a dagger point.

"It was the hope of finding you an innocent woman, that must plead
my pardon for what you consider an unwarrantable 'intrusion.' Will
you believe me, if I swear to you, that I have come as a friend?"

"As a friend to me? No. As a friend to General Darrington and his
adopted son Prince? Yes. Oh, Tiberius! Your rosy apples are flavored
like those your forefather offered Agrippina."

"Do you regard me as an unscrupulous, calculating villain, who
pretending kindness, plots treachery? Do you deliberately offer me
this wanton insult?"

His swart face reddened, and the fine lines of his handsome mouth
hardened.

She shrank a few inches closer to the window, and compressed her
lips.

"If you were a man, I should swiftly resent the affront you have
thrust upon me, and suitable redress would be peculiarly sweet and
welcome; but you are a defenceless and unfortunate woman, and my
hands are tied. I desire to help you; you repulse me and insult my
manhood. I will do my painful duty, because it is sternly and
inexorably my duty; but, I wish to God, I had never set my eyes on
you."

The sudden passionate ring in his voice surprised her, and she
looked searchingly at him, wondering into what pitfall it was
intended to lure her.

"If you had never set your eyes on me? Ah, would to God I had died
ten thousand times before I encountered their evil spell! If you had
never set your eyes on me? I should be now, a happy, hopeful girl,
with life beckoning me like the rosy Syrian plains that smiled on
the desert-weary. The world looked so bright to me that day, when
first I smelled the sweet resinous pines, and dreamed of my work,
and all the glory of the victory, I knew that I should win over
poverty and want. I was so poor in worldly goods, but oh!--Croesus
could not have bought my proud hopes! So rich, so overflowing with
high hope! As I think of my feelings that day, among the primroses
and pine cones, it seems a hundred years ago, and I recall the image
of a girl long dead; such a proud girl; so happy in the beautiful
world of the art she loved! Then some strange awful curse that had
lain in wait, ambushed among the flowers I gathered that last day of
my dead existence, fell upon me--I saw you! No wonder I shivered,
when you met me. I saw you. Then my sun sickened and went out, and
my hopes crumbled, and my youth shrivelled and perished forever; and
the wide world is a rayless dungeon, and the girl Beryl is buried so
deep, that the Angels of the Resurrection will never find her!--and
I?--I am only a withered, disgraced woman, hurled into a den;
trampled, branded; with a soul devoured by despairing bitterness,
with a broken heart, a brain on fire! If you had drawn a knife
across my throat, or sent a bullet through my temples, my spirit
might have rested in the Beyond, and I could have forgiven that
which hastened me to heaven; but you strangled my hopes, and
mutilated my youth, and dishonored my father's name!--You robbed me
of my stainless character, and cast me among outlaws and fiends!--
Worse yet, oh! blackest of all your crimes!--you have almost
throttled my faith in Christ. You have torn away my hold upon the
eternal God! You are the curse of my life. You wish you had never
set your eyes on me? Take courage, finish your work; the best of me
is utterly dead already, and when you have taken my blood, and laid
my polluted body in a convict's shallow grave, your enmity will be
satiated. Then I, at least, I shall be free from my hideous curse.
If there be any comfort left me, it lurks in the knowledge that when
you succeed in convicting me, the same world will no longer hold us
both."

Was it the fever of disease, or incipient madness that blazed in her
eyes, flamed on her cheeks, and lent such thrilling cadence to her
pure clear voice? Was she a consummate actress, or had he made a
frightful mistake, and goaded an innocent girl to the verge of
frenzy? Some occult influence seemed clouding his hitherto
infallible perceptions, melting his heart, paralyzing his will. He
walked up and down the floor, with his hands clasped behind him,
then came close to the prisoner.

"If I have unjustly suspected and persecuted you, may God forgive
me! If I have wronged you by suspicion and accusation of a crime
which you did not commit, then my atonement shall be your triumphant
vindication. I would give a good deal to know that your hands are as
pure as they look, and innocent of theft and murder. Tell me--tell
me the truth. I will save you, I will give you back all that you
have lost, and tenfold more. For God's sake, for your own sake, and
for mine, I entreat you to tell me the truth. Did you go back to
'Elm Bluff' that night, after I met you in the pine woods?"

His dark face was close to hers, and his keen blue eyes seemed to
probe the recesses of her soul. If she answered, would the steel
springs of some trap close upon her?

"I did not go back to 'Elm Bluff.' My hands, my heart, my soul are
as free from crime as they were when God sent them into the world. I
am innocent--innocent--innocent as any baby only a week old, lying
dead in its little coffin. Innocent--but defiled, disgraced;
innocent as the Lord Jesus was of the sins for which He died; but
you can not save what you have destroyed. You have ruined my life."

He was a strong man, cold, collected, priding himself upon his
superb physique, his nerves of steel; but as he watched and
listened, he trembled, and the girl's eyes dilated, sparkled through
the sudden moisture that so strangely and unexpectedly gathered in
his own.

"Then you must prove the truth of your solemn words; and it was this
faint hope that induced me to come here to-day. Only one
circumstance stands between the Grand Jury and your indictment for
murder; and time presses. Now tell me, do you know this?"

He took from his coat pocket a small parcel wrapped in paper, and
tore off the covering. Beryl stood faint and dizzy, resting against
the window, but erect, on guard and defiant. He shook out and held
up a square of fine linen, daintily hem-stitched. Along the border
ran graceful arabesques, swelling into scallops and dotted with
stars, embroidered in some rich red thread; and in one corner,
enclosed in a wreath of exquisitely designed fuchsias, the large,
elaborately ornate capitals "B. B." were worked in fadeless scarlet
scrolls to match the wreath. Above the drooping flowers, poised the
red wings of a descending butterfly. Artistic instincts had
outlined, and deft delicate touches filled in, with the glowing
embroidery.

Did she know it? Could she ever forget that serene May day when the
air was liquid gold, and the Mediterranean molten sapphire, wreathed
with pearls, as the wavelets crested; when the rosy oleanders and
silvery flakes of orange blossoms floated down upon the ferny cliff,
where sitting by her father's side, she had drawn this design,
spreading the linen on the back of her father's worn copy of
Theocritus? If she lived a thousand years, would it be possible to
forget the thin, almost transparent white hand, with its blue veins
swollen like cords, which had gently taken the pencil from her
fingers, and retouched and rounded the sweep of the curves; the dear
wasted hand that she had stooped and kissed, as it corrected her
work?

As on the golden background of a cherished Byzantine picture, memory
held untarnished every tint and outline of that blessed day, when
she and her father had looked for the last time on the sunny sea
they loved so well.

Did fell fate hover, even then, in that sparkling perfumed air, and
in sinister prescience trace this tangling web of threads, with grim
intent to snare her unwary feet?

Savants tell us, that ages ago, in the dim dawn, primeval rain drops
made their pattering print, and left it to harden on the stone
pages, awaiting decipherment by human eyes and human brains, not yet

"Born of the brainless Nature, Who knew not that which she bore."

Is there an analogous iron chain linking the merest trifles, the
frivolous accidents, the apparently worthless coincidences that
swell the sum of what we are pleased to call the nobly independent
life of the "free-agent" Man? In the matrix of time, do human tears
and human blood-drops leave their record, to be conned when Nemesis
holds her last assize?

As the handkerchief swayed in the lawyer's grasp, Beryl saw the red
"B. B." like a bloody brand. At that instant she felt that the death
clutch fastened upon her throat; that fate had cast her adrift, on
the black waves of despair. In her reeling brain kaleidoscopic
images danced; her father's face, the lateen sail of fishing boats
rocking on blue billows, white oxen browsing amid purple iris
clusters; she heard her mother's voice, her brother's gay laugh; she
smelled the prussic acid fragrance of the vivid oleanders, then over
all, like tongues of devouring flames, flickered "Ricordo." "B. B."

In the frenzy of her desperation she sprang forward, seized the arms
that held up the fatal handkerchief, and shook the man, as if he had
been an infant. Her eyes full of horror, were fixed on the scrap of
linen, and a frantic cry rang from her lips.

"Father! Father! There is no hereafter for you and me! Prayer is but
the mockery of fools! There is no heaven for the pure, because there
is no God! No God!--to hear, to save the innocent who trusted in
Him. Oh--no God!"

Mr. Dunbar dropped the handkerchief, and as the irresistible
conviction of her guilt rolled back, crushing the hope he had
cherished a moment before, a spasm of pain seized his heart, and
with a groan that would not be repressed, he covered his eyes to
shut out the vision of the despairing woman, whose doom seemed
sealed. Her right hand which unconsciously clutched his left
shoulder, shivered like an aspen, and he knew that for the moment
she was entirely oblivious of his presence; blind to everything but
the assurance of her ruin.

After all, he had made no mistake; his keen insight was well nigh
infallible; but his triumph was costly. The luscious fruit of
professional success left an acrid flavor; the pungent dead sea
ashes sifted freely. He set his heel on the embroidered butterfly,
and in his heart cursed the hour he had first seen it. His coveted
bread was petrifying between his teeth.

The grasp on his shoulder relaxed, the hand fell heavily. When he
looked in the face of his victim, he caught his breath at the
strange, inexplicable change a few minutes had wrought. Protest and
resistance had come to an end. Surrender was printed on every
feature. The wild fury of the passionate struggle that convulsed
her, had spent itself; and as after a violent wintry tempest the
gale subsides, and the snow compassionately shrouds the scene,
burning the dead sparrows, the bruised flowers, so submission laid
her cold touch on this quivering face, and veiled and froze it.

From afar the sound of rushing waters seemed to smite Beryl's ears,
to surge nearer, to overflow her brain. She sank suddenly to the
floor, clinging with one hand to the window bar, and her auburn head
fell forward on the up-lifted arm. Thinking that  she had fainted,
Mr. Dunbar stooped and raised her face, holding it in his palms. The
eyes met his, unflinching but mournful as those of a tormented deer
whom the hunters drag from worrying hounds. She writhed, freed
herself from his touch; and resting against the window sill, drew a
long deep breath.

"You have succeeded in your mission today. You have the only clue
you needed. You have no occasion to linger. Now--will you leave me?"

He picked up the handkerchief.

"This is your handkerchief?"

She made no answer. A leaden hand was pressing upon her heart, her
brain, her aching eyes.

"You have basely deceived me. You did go back that night, and you
left this, to betray you. Saturated with chloroform you laid it over
your grandfather's face. Load your soul with no more falsehoods.
Confess the deeds of that awful night."

"I did not go back. I never saw 'Elm Bluff' after I met you. I know
no more of the chloroform than you do. I have told the truth first
and last, and always. I have no confession to make. I am as innocent
as you are. Innocent! Innocent! You are going to hang me for a crime
I did not commit. When you do, you will murder an innocent woman."

She spoke slowly, solemnly, and at intervals, as if she found it
difficult to express her meaning. The passionless tone was that of
one, standing where the river of death flowed close to her feet, and
her beautiful face shone with the transfiguring light of conscious
purity.

"Hold up your hand, and tell me this is not your handkerchief; and I
will yet save you."

"It was my handkerchief, but I am innocent. Finish your work."

"How can you expect me to believe your contradictory statements?"

Wearily she turned her head, and looked at him. A strange drowsiness
dimmed her vision, thickened her speech.

"I expect nothing from you--but--death."

"Will you explain how your handkerchief chanced to be found on your
grandfather's pillow? Trust me, I am trying to believe you. Tell
me."

In his eagerness he seized her hand, clasped it tightly, bent over
her. She made no reply, and the silky black lashes sank lower, lower
till they touched the violet circle suffering had worn under her
eyes. Like a lily too heavy for its stem, the glossy head fell upon
her breast. Her hot fingers throbbed in his palm, and when he felt
her pulse, the rapid bounding tide defied his counting. Kneeling
beside her, he laid the head against his shoulder.

"Are you ill? What is the matter? Speak to me."

Her parched lips unclosed, and she muttered with a sigh, like a
child falling asleep after long sobbing:

"My handkerchief--Tiberius--my--han--"

She had fought against fearful odds, with sleepless nights and
fasting days sapping her strength; and when the battle ended, though
the will was unfaltering, physical exhaustion triumphed, and
delirium mercifully took the tortured spirit into her cradling arms.




CHAPTER X.


When Leo Gordon celebrated her twenty-second birthday, Judge Dent,
appreciating the importance of familiarizing her with the business
details and technicalities of commercial usage, incident to the
management of her large estate, had insisted upon terminating his
guardianship, and transferring to her all responsibility for the
future conduct of her financial affairs. New books were placed in
her hands, in which he required her to keep systematically and
legibly all her accounts; she drew and signed her own checks, and
semi-annually furnished for his inspection a neat balance-sheet.

As adviser, and agent for the collection of dividends and rents, the
change or renewal of investments, he maintained only a general
supervision, and left her untrammelled the use of her income. As a
dangerous innovation upon time-honored customs, which  under the
ante bellum regime, had kept Southern women as ignorant of practical
business routine, as of the origin  of the Weddas of Ceylon, Miss
Patty bitterly opposed and lamented her brother's decision; dismally
predicting that  the result must inevitably be the transformation of
their refined, delicate,  clinging "Southern lady", into that
abhorred monster--"a strong-minded independent business woman".

Intensely loyal to the social standard, usages and traditions of an
aristocracy, that throughout the South had guarded its patrician
ranks with almost Brahmin jealousy, she sternly decried every
infringement of caste custom and etiquette. Nature and education had
combined to deprive her of any adaptability to the new order of
things; and she rejected the idea that "a lady should transact
business", with the same contemptuous indignation that would have
greeted a proposition to wear "machine-sewed garments", that last
resort of impecunious plebeianism. However unwelcome Leo had found
this assumption of the grave duties of mature womanhood, she met the
responsibility unflinchingly, and gathered very firmly the reins
transferred to her fair hands for guidance. Judge Dent and Miss
Patty were the last of their family, except the orphan niece who had
been left to their care, and as their earthly possessions would
ultimately descend to her, she had been reared in the conviction
that their house was her only home.

Study and travel, potent factors in the march of progress, had so
enlarged the periphery of Leo's intellectual vision, that she
frequently startled her prim aunt, by the enunciation of views much
too extended and cosmopolitan to fit that haughty dame's Procrustean
limits of "Southern ladyhood". Blessed with a discriminating
governess and chaperon, who while fostering a genuine love of the
beautiful, had endeavored to guard her pupil from straying into any
of those fashionable "art crazes", which in their ephemeral
exaggeration approach caricatures of aestheticism, Leo became deeply
imbued with the spirit of classic literature and art; and grew
especially fond of the study of Greek and Roman architecture.

Believing that the similarity of climate in her native State,
justified the revival of an archaic style of building, she ardently
desired and finally obtained her uncle's consent to the erection (as
an addition to the Dent mansion), of a suite of rooms, designed in
accordance with her taste, and for her own occupancy. Hampered by no
prudential economic considerations, and fearless of criticism as
regarded archaeological anachronisms, Leo allowed herself a wide-
eyed eclecticism, that resulted in a thoroughly composite structure,
eminently satisfactory at least to its fastidious owner. A single
story in height, it contained only four rooms, and on a reduced
scale resembled the typical house of Pansa, except that the flat
roof rose in the center to a dome. Constituting a western wing of
the old brick mansion which it adjoined, the entrance fronting
north, opened from a portico with clustered columns, into a square
vestibule; which led directly to a large, octagonal atrium,
surrounded by lofty fluted pillars with foliated capitals that
supported the arched and frescoed ceiling. In the centre, a circular
impluvium was sunk in the marble paved floor, where in summer a jet
of spray sprang from the water on whose surface lily pads floated;
and in winter, shelves were inserted, which held blooming pot
plants, that were arranged in the form of a pyramid. The dome
overarching this, was divided into three sections; the lower
frescoed, the one above it filled with Etruscan designs in stained
glass; the upper, formed of white ground glass sprinkled with gilt
stars representing constellations, was so constructed, that it could
be opened outward in panels, and thus admit the fresh air.

On the east side of this atrium, Leo's bed-room connected with that
occupied by Miss Patty in the old house; and opposite, on the west,
was a large square Pompeian library, with dark red dado, daintily
frescoed panels, and richly tinted glowing frieze. At the end of
this apartment, and concealed by purple velvet curtains lined with
rose silk, an arch opened into a small semi-circular chapel or
oratory, lighted by stained glass windows, whose brilliant hues fell
on a marble altar upheld by two kneeling figures; and here lay the
family Bible of Leo's great-grandfather, Duncan Gordon, with tall
bronze candelabra on each side, holding wax candles. At the right of
two marble steps that led to the altar, was spread a rug, and upon
this stood an ebony reading-desk where a prayer-book rested. Filling
a niche in the wall on the left side, the gilded pipes of an organ
rose to meet a marble console that supported a Greek cross.

In order to secure an unobstructed vista from the front door, that
portion of the building which corresponded to the ancient tablinum,
was used merely as an aviary, where handsome brass cages of various
shapes showed through their burnished wires snowy cockatoos, gaudy
paroquets, green and gold canaries, flaming red and vivid blue
birds, and one huge white owl, whose favorite perch when allowed his
freedom, was a bronze Pallas on a projecting bracket.

Conspicuous among these, was a peculiar cage made of tortoise shell,
ivory and silver wire, which Leo had assigned to a scarlet-crested,
crimson-throated Australian cockatoo. Beyond this undraped rear
vestibule stretched the peristyle, a parallelogram, surrounded by a
lofty colonnade. The centre of this space was adorned by a rockery
whence a fountain rose; flower beds of brilliant annuals and coleus
encircled it like a mosaic, and the ground was studded with orange
and lemon trees, banana and pineapple plants; while at the farther
side delicate exotic grape vines were trained from column to column.

In summer this beautiful court was entirely open to the sky, but at
the approach of winter a movable framework of iron pillars was
erected, which supported a glass roof, that sloped southward, and
garnered heat and sunshine. Neither chimneys nor fireplaces were
visible, but a hidden furnace thoroughly warmed the entire house,
and in each apartment the registers represented braziers of classic
design.

Except for the external entrances, doors had been abolished;
portieres of plush, satin, and Oriental silk closed all openings in
winter; and during long sultry Southern summers were replaced by
draperies of lace, and wicker-work screens where growing ivy and
smilax trained their cool green leaves, and graceful tendrils.
Wooden floors had accompanied the doors to Coventry; and everywhere
squares of marble, and lemon and blue tiles showed shimmering
surfaces between the costly rugs, and fur robes scattered lavishly
about the rooms. Surrounded by a gilded wreath of olive leaves, and
incised on an architrave fronting the vestibule, the golden "Salve"
greeted visitors; just beneath it, on an antique shaped table of
topaz-veined onyx, stood a Vulci black bowl or vase, decorated in
vermilion with Bacchanal figures; and this Leo filled in summer with
creamy roses, in winter, with camellias. Where the shrines and Lares
stood in ancient houses, a square, burnished copper pedestal
fashioned like an altar had been placed, and upon it rose from a bed
of carved lilies, a copy in white marble of Palmer's "Faith".

From the front portico, one could look through the vestibule, the
atrium, the aviary, and on into the peristyle, where among vine
branches and lemon boughs, the vista was closed by a flight of stone
steps with carved cedar balustrade, leading up to the flat roof,
where it sometimes pleased the mistress to take her tea, or watch
the sunset. In selecting and ordering designs for the furniture, a
strict adherence to archaic types had been observed; hence the
couches, divans, chairs, and tables, the pottery and bric-a-brac,
the mirrors and draperies, were severely classic.

An expensive whim certainly, far exceeding the original estimate of
its cost; and Miss Patty bewailed the "wicked extravagance of
squandering money that would have built a handsome church, and
supported for life two missionaries in mid-China"; but Judge Dent
encouraged and approved, reviving his classical studies to
facilitate the successful accomplishment of the scheme. When the
structure was completed and Leo declared herself perfectly satisfied
with the result, it was her uncle who had proposed to celebrate her
twenty-fourth birthday by a mask-ball in which every costume should
be classic, distinctively Roman or Greek; and where the mulsum
dispensed to the guests should be mixed in a genuine Cratera.

To this brilliant fete, one cloudless June night, friends from
distant States were invited; and fragrant with the breath of its
glowing roses, the occasion became memorable, embalmed forever in
Leo's happy heart, because then and there, beside the fountain in
the peristyle, she had pledged her hand and faith to Mr. Dunbar.

Sitting to-day in front of the library window, whence she had looped
back the crimson curtains, to admit the November sunshine, Leo was
absorbed in reading the description of the private Ambar-valia
celebrated by Marius at "White Nights". Under the spell of the
Apostle of Culture, whose golden precept: "BE PERFECT IN REGARD TO
WHAT IS HERE AND NOW," had appealed powerfully to her earnest
exalted nature, she failed to observe the signals of her pet ring-
doves cooing on the ledge outside. Finally their importunate tapping
on the glass arrested her attention, and she raised the sash and
scattered a handful of rice and millet seed; whereupon a cloud of
dainty wings swept down, and into the library, hovering around her
sunny head, and pecking the food from her open palms. One dove
seemed particularly attracted by the glitter of the diamond in her
engagement ring, and perched on her wrist, made repeated attempts to
dislodge the jewel from its crown setting. Playfully she shook it
off several times, and amused by its pertinacity, finally closed her
hands over it, and rubbed her soft cheek against the delicate
silvery plumage.

"No, no, you saucy scamp! I can't afford to feed you on diamonds
from my sacred ring! Did you get your greedy nature from some sable
Dodonean ancestress? If we had lived three thousand years ago, I
might be superstitious, and construe your freak into an oracular
protest against my engagement. Feathered augurs survive their
shrines. Clear out! you heretic!"

As she tossed it into the garden and closed the window, the portiere
of the library was drawn aside, and her maid approached, followed by
a female figure draped in a shawl and wearing a lofty turban.

"Miss Leo, Aunt Dyce wants to see you on some particular business."

"Howdy do, Aunt Dyce? It is a long time since you paid us a visit.
Justine, push up a chair for her, and then open the cages and let
the birds out for an hour. What is the matter, Aunt Dyce, you look
troubled? Sit down, and tell me your tribulations."

"Yes, Miss Leo, I am in deep waters; up to my chin in trouble, and
my heart is dragging me down; for it's heavier 'an a bushel of lead.
You don't remember your own ma, do you?"

"I wish I did; but I was only five months old when I lost her."

"Well, if she was living to-day, she would stretch her two hands and
pull me out of muddy waves; and that's why I have come to you. You
see, Miss Marcia and my young Mistiss, Miss Ellice, was bosom
friends, playmates, and like sisters. They named their dolls after
one another, and many a time your ma brought her wax doll to our
house, for me to dress it just like Miss Ellice's, 'cause I was the
seamstus in our family, and I always humored the childun about their
doll clothes. They had their candy pullins, and their birthday
frolics, and their shetlan' ponies no bigger 'an dogs, and, oh Lord!
what blessed happy times them was! Now, your ma's in glory, and you
is the richest belle in the State; and my poor young mistiss is in
the worst puggatory, the one that comes before death; and her child,
her daughter that oughter be living in style at 'Elm Bluff', like
you are here, where is she? Where is she? Flung down among vilyans
and mallyfactors, and the very off-scourings of creation, in the
penitenchery! Tears to me like, if old mistiss is as high-headed and
proud as she was in this world, her speerit would tear down the
walls and set her grandchild free. When I saw that beautiful young
thing beating her white hands agin the iron bars, it went to my
heart like a carving knife, and--"

Dyce burst into tears, and covered her face with her apron, Leo
patted her shoulder softly, and essayed to comfort her.

"Don't cry so bitterly; try to be hopeful. It is very, very sad, but
if she is innocent, her stay in prison will be short."

"There ain't no 'ifs'--when it comes to 'cusing my mistiss' child of
stealing and murdering. Suppose the sheriff was to light down here
this minute, and grab you up and tell folks 'spectable witnesses
swore you broke open your Uncle Mitchell's safe, and brained him
with a handi'on? Would you think it friendly for people to say, if
she didn't they will soon turn her aloose? Would that be any warm
poultice to your hurt feelin's? It's the stinging shame and the
awful, disgrace of being 'spicioned, that you never would forgive."

"Yes, it is very dreadful, and I pity the poor girl; but it seems
that appearances are all against her, and I fear she will find it
difficult to explain some circumstances."

"If your ma was here to-day, she wouldn't say that. When she was a
friend, she was stone deaf and mole blind to every evil report agin
them she loved. Miss Marcia would go straight to that jail, and put
her arms 'round Miss Ellice's child, and stand by her till her last
breath; and the more she was pussecuted, the closer she would stick.
Miss Leo, you must take your ma's place, you must heir her
friendship just like you do her other property. I have come to you,
'cause I am going away to New York, and can't feel easy 'till you
promise me you will do what you can. Miss Ellice is laying at the
pint of death, and her poor child is so deestracted about her
needing comforts, that I tole her I'de go on an' nuss her ma for
her, 'till she was sot free and could hurry back. I dreampt last
night that ole mistiss called me and Bedney, and said 'Take good
care of Ellice'; and I got right out of bed and packed my trunk. I'm
just from the penitenchery, and that poor tormented child don't know
me, don't know nothing. Trouble have run her plum crazy, and what
with brain fever and them lie-yers, God only knows what's to become
of her. Handi'ons ain't the only godforsaken things folks are
murdered with. Miss Leo, promise me you will go to see her while I
am gone, and 'tend to it that she has good nussing."

"I will do what is possible for her comfort; and as it will be an
expensive journey to you, I will also help you to pay your passage
to New York. How much money--"

"I don't want your money, Miss Leo. Bedney and me never is beholdin'
to nobody for money. We was too sharp to drap our savings in the
'Freedman's Bank', 'cause we 'spicioned the bottom was not soddered
tight, and Marster's britches' pocket was a good enough bank for us.
We don't need to beg, borrow, nor steal. As I tole you, I was the
seamstress, and just before Miss Ellice run away from the school,
ole mistiss had a fine lot of bran-new clothes made ready for her
when she come home to be a young lady. She never did come home, and
when ole mistiss died I jist tuck them new clothes I had made, and
packed 'em in a wooden chist, and kept 'em hid away; 'cause I was
determed nobody but Miss Ellice should wear 'em. I've hid 'em
twenty-three years, and now I've had 'em done up, and one-half I
tuck to that jail, for that poor young thing, and the rest of 'em
I'm gwine to carry to Miss Ellice. They shan't need money nor
clothes; for Bedney and me has got too much famly pride to let
outsiders do for our own folks; but Miss Leo, you can do what nobody
else in this wide world can. I ain't a gwine to walk the devil
'round the stump, and you mustn't take no 'fence when I jumps plum
to the pint. Mars Lennox is huntin' down Miss Ellice's child like a
hungry hound runs a rabbit, and I want you to call him off. If he
thinks half as much of you as he oughter, you can stop him. Oh, Miss
Leo, for God's sake--call him off--muzzle him!"

Leo rose haughtily, and a quick flush fired her cheek; but as she
looked at the old woman's quivering mouth and streaming eyes,
compassion arrested her displeasure.

"Aunt Dyce, there are some things with which ladies should not
meddle; and I cannot interfere with any gentleman's business
affairs."

"Oh, honey! if Miss Marcia was living, she wouldn't say that! She
would just put her arm round Miss Beryl and tell Mars Lennox: 'If
you help to hang my friend's child, you shan't marry my daughter!'
Your ma had pluck enuff to stop him. Mark what I say; that poor
child is innercent, and the Lord will clear up everything some day,
and then He will require the blood of them that condemned the
innercent. Suppos'n appearances are agin her? Wasn't appearances all
agin Joseph's bruthren when the money and the silver cup was found
in their bags, and them afleein home? And if the 'Gyptian lie-yers
could have got their claws on that case, don't you know they would
have proved them innercent boys guilty, and a hung em? Oh, I am
afeerd of Mars Lennox, for he favors his pa mightily; he has got the
keenest scent of all the pack; and he went up yonder, and 'cused,
and 'bused, and browbeat and aggervated and tormented that poor,
helpless young creetur,'till she fell down in a dead faint on the
jail floor; and sence then, the Doctor says her mind is done clean
gone. Don't get mad with me, Miss Leo; I am bound to clare my
conscience, and now I have done all I could, I am gwine to leave my
poor young mistiss' child in God's hands, and in yourn, Miss Leo;
and when I come back, you must gim'me an account of your stewudship.
You are enuff like Miss Marcia, not to shirk your duty; and as you
do, by that pussecuted child, I pray the Lord to do by you."

She seized Leo's hand, kissed it, and left the room.

For some moments Leo sat, with one finger between the creamy leaves
of her favorite book, but the charm was broken; her thoughts
wandered far from the stories of Apuleius, and the oration of
Aurelius, and after mature deliberation, she put aside the volume
and rang the library bell.

"Justine, is Mrs. Graham here?"

"She is coming now; I see the carriage at the gate."

"Do not invite her into Aunt Patty's room, until I have seen her.
Tell Andrew to harness Gypsy, and bring my phaeton to the door; and
Justine, carry my felt hat, driving gloves and fur jacket to Aunt
Patty's room."

Confined to her bed by a severe attack of her chronic foe,
inflammatory rheumatism, Miss Dent had sent for her dearest friend
and faithful colleague in church work, Mrs. Graham, who came to
spend a day and night, and discuss the affairs of the parish.

"Aunt Patty, Mrs. Graham is in the parlor, and as I am well aware
you can both cheerfully dispense with my society for the present, I
am going into town. Dyce Darrington has been here, and I have
promised to go and see that unfortunate girl who is in prison."

"Leo Gordon, you don't mean to tell me that you are going into the
penitentiary!"

"Why not?"

"It is highly improper for a young lady to visit such places, and I
am astonished that you should feel any inclination to see the
countenances of the depraved wretches herded there. I totally
disapprove of such an incomprehensible freak."

"Then I will hold the scheme in abeyance, until I ask Uncle
Mitchell's advice. I shall call at his office, and request him to go
with me."

"Don't you know that the Grand Jury brought in a true bill against
that young woman? She is indicted for murder, robbery and the
destruction of her grandfather's will. Mitchell tells me the
evidence is overwhelming against her, and you know he was disposed
to defend her at first."

"Yes, Aunty. I am aware that everything looks black for the
unfortunate girl; but I learn she is very ill, and as it cannot
possibly injure me to endeavor to contribute to her physical
comfort. I shall go and sec her, unless Uncle Mitchell refuses his
consent to my visit to the prison."

"But, Leo. what do you suppose Mr. Dunbar will think and say, when
he hears of this extraordinary procedure?"

"Mr. Dunbar is neither the custodian of my conscience, nor the
guardian and dictator of my actions. Good-bye, Aunty dear. Justine,
show Mrs. Graham in."  "Mr. Dunbar will never forgive such a step;
because, like all other men, no matter how much license he allows
himself, he is very exacting and fastidious about the demeanor of
his lady-love."

"I shall not ask absolution of Mr. Dunbar, and I hope my womanly
intuitions are a safer and more refined guide, than any man's
fastidiousness. Remember, Aunt Patty, religion's holiest work
consists in ministering to souls steeped in sin. Are we too pure to
follow where Christ led the way?"




CHAPTER XI.


"Madam, I ordered the prisoner's head shaved. Did you understand my
instructions?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why were my orders not obeyed?"

"Because I don't intend you shall make a convict of her, before she
has been tried and sentenced. She has the most glorious suit of hair
I ever looked at, and I shall save it till the last moment. Doctor
Moffat, you need not swear and fume, for I don't allow even my
husband to talk ugly to me. You directed a blister put on the back
of the neck, as close as possible to the skull; it is there, and it
is drawing fast enough to satisfy any reasonable person. I divided
the hair into four braids and plaited them, and you can see I have
hung up the ends here just loose enough to save any pulling, and yet
the hair is out of the way, so that I keep her head cool with this
India-rubber ice-bag. I will be responsible for the  blister."

Mrs. Singleton spread her arms over the sick girl, as a hen shelters
her brood from a swooping hawk.

"But, Susie, the Doctor knows better what is--"

"Hush, Ned. Perhaps he does; but I 'detailed' myself to nurse this
case; and I don't propose to surrender all my common sense, and all
my womanly judgment, and maternal experience, in order to keep the
Doctor in a good humor. I will have my own head shaved before hers
shall be touched."

Mr. Singleton discreetly withdrew from the conference, softly
closing the door behind him; and Doctor Moffat bent over the
thermometer with which he was testing the temperature. When he
raised his head, a kindly smile lurked in his deep set eyes:

"I can't afford to quarrel with you, madam; you are too faithful and
watchful a nurse. After all, the chances are, that it will
ultimately make very little difference; she grows worse so rapidly.
I will come in again before bed-time, and meanwhile make no change
in the medicine."

The warden's wife replenished the ice in a bowl, whence a tube
supplied the cap or bag on the head of the sufferer, and taking a
child's apron from her work-basket on the floor, resumed her sewing.
After a while, the door opened noiselessly, and glancing up, she saw
Mr. Dunbar.

"May I come in?"

"Yes. You need repentance; and this is a good place to begin."

"Is there any change?"

"Only for the worse. No need now to tip-toe; she is beyond being
disturbed by noise. I think the first sound she will notice, will be
the harps of the angels."

"I trust the case is not so hopeless?"

"Queer heart you must have! You are afraid she will slip through
your fingers, and get to heaven without the help of the gallows and
the black cap? Death cheats even the lawyers, sometimes, and seems
to be snatching at your prey. You don't believe in prayer, and you
have no time to waste that way. I do; and I get down here constantly
on my knees, and pray to my God to take this poor young thing out of
the world now, before you all convict her, and punish her for crimes
she never committed."

"Madam, her conviction would grieve me as much as it possibly could
you; and unless she can vindicate herself, I earnestly hope she may
never recover her consciousness."

The unmistakable sincerity of his tone surprised the little woman,
and scanning him keenly as he stood, hat in hand, at the foot of the
cot, her heart relented toward him.

"You still consider her guilty?"

"Since my last interview with her, I have arrived at no conclusion.
Whether she be innocent or guilty, is known only by her, and her
God. All human judgments in such cases are but guesses at the truth.
Is she entirely unconscious, or has she lucid intervals?"

"Mr. Dunbar, on your honor as a gentleman, answer me. Are you here
hunting evidence on a death-bed? Would you be so diabolical as to
use against her any utterances of delirium?"  The flash of his eyes
reminded her of the peculiar blue flame that leaps from a glowing
bed of anthracite coal; and she had her reply before his lips moved.

"Am I a butcher, madam? Your insinuations are so insulting to my
manhood, that it is difficult for me to remember my interrogator is
a lady; doubly difficult for me to show you the courtesy your sex
demands. Sooner than betray the secrets of a sick room, or violate
the sanctity of the confidence which that poor girl's condition
enjoins, I would cut off my right arm."

"I intend no discourtesy, sir; but my feelings are so deeply
enlisted, that I cannot stop to choose and pick phrases, in talking
to the person who caused that child to be shut up here. She thinks
you are the most vindictive and dangerous enemy she has; and I had
no reason to contradict her. Don't be offended, Mr. Dunbar."

He deigned no answer, but the dilation of his thin nostrils, and the
stern contraction of his handsome lips, attested his wrath. Mrs.
Singleton rose and laid her fingers on his coat sleeve.

"If I felt sure I could trust you--"

"I decline your confidence. Madam, if I could only tell you, that
your vile suspicions are too contemptible to merit the indignation
they arouse, I should to some extent feel relieved."

"Then having said it, I will let you off without an apology; and
wipe the slate, and start fresh. You are sensitive about your honor,
and I am determined to find out just how much it is worth. Trusting
you as an honorable gentleman, I am going to ask you to do something
for me, which may be of service to my patient; and I ask it, because
I have unlimited faith in your skill. Find out who 'Ricordo' is."

"Why? I must thoroughly understand the import of whatever I
undertake, and if your reasons are too sacred to be communicated to
me, you must select some other agent. I do not solicit your
confidence, mark you; but I must know all, or nothing."

"The day she was taken so ill, I was undressing her, and she looked
at me very strangely, and said she believed she was losing her mind.
Then she raised her hands and prayed:

"'Lord, be merciful! Lord, seal my lips! Seal my lips!'

"Since then she has not known me, but several times she cried out
'Ricordo'! Last night she sat up suddenly, and stared at something
she seemed to see right before her in the air. She shook her head at
first, and said--'Oh, no! it cannot be possible'. Then she clutched
at some invisible object, and a look of horror came into her eyes.
She struck her palms together, and I never heard such an agonizing
cry, 'There is no help! I must believe it--oh Ricordo!--Ricordo--
Ricordo'. She fell back and shivered as if she had an ague. I tried
to soothe her, and told her she had a bad dream. She kept saying:
'Oh, horrible--it was, it was Ricordo!' Once, early this morning,
she pulled me down to her and whispered: 'Don't tell mother--it
would break her heart to know it was Ricordo!' She has not spoken
distinctly since, though she mutters to herself. Now, Mr. Dunbar, if
I did not feel as sure of her innocence as I am of my own, I should
never tell you this; but I want your aid to hunt and catch this
'Ricordo', because I am satisfied it will help to clear her."

"Was it not 'Ricardo'?"

"No, sir--it sounded as if spelled with an o not an a--and it was
'Ricordo'."

"Ricardo is a proper name, but I am under the impression that
'Ricordo' is an Italian word that means simply a remembrance, a
souvenir, sometimes a warning. I am glad, however, to have the clue,
and I will do all I can to discover what connection exists between
that word, and the crime. Can you tell me nothing more?"

"Sometimes she seems to be drawing and painting, and talks to her
father about pictures; and once she said: 'Hush! hush--mother is
ill. She must not know I died, because I promised her I would bear
everything. She made me promise'."

At this moment the keen wail of a young child, summoned the warden's
wife to her own apartment, and Mr. Dunbar sat down in the rocking-
chair beside the iron cot.

In that strange terra incognita, the realm of psychology, are there
hidden laws that defy alike the ravages of cerebral disease, and the
intuitions of the moral nature; inexorable as the atomic affinities,
the molecular attractions that govern crystallization? Is the day
dawning, when the phenomena of hypnotism will be analyzed and
formulated as accurately as the symbols of chemistry, or the
constituents of protoplasm, or the weird chromatics of spectroscopy?
Beryl's head, that hitherto had turned restlessly on its pillow,
became motionless; the closed eyes opened suddenly, fastened upon
the lawyer's; and some inexplicable influence impelled her to
stretch out her hand to him.

"Tiberius, you have come for me."

"I have come to ask if you are better to-day."

Her burning fingers closed tightly over his, and the fever flame
lent an indescribable splendor to eyes that seemed to penetrate his
heart. Bending over her, he gently lifted a shining fold of hair
from her white temple, and still clasping her hand, said in a low
voice:

"Beryl, do you know me? Are you better?"

"Wait till I finish the sketch from San Michele. After I am hung,
you will sell it. The light is so lovely."

Up and down, her right hand moved through the air, making imaginary
strokes as on canvas, but her luminous gaze, held by some powerful
fascination, never left his. The gray depths had darkened, swallowed
by the widening pupils that made them almost black; and as Mr.
Dunbar recognized the complete surrender of physical and mental
faculties, her helplessness stirred some unknown sea of tenderness
in the man's hard, practical, realistic nature.

Phlegmatic rather than emotional, and wholly secretive, he had
accustomed himself to regard romantic ideality, and susceptibility
to sentimentality as a species of intellectual anaemia; holding
himself always thoroughly in hand, when subjected to the softening
influences that now and then invaded professional existence, and
melted the conventional selfish crust over the hearts of his
colleagues, as the warm lips and balmy breath of equatorial currents
kiss away the jagged ledges of drifting icebergs. In his laborious
life, that which is ordinarily denominated "love" had been so
insignificant a factor, that he had never computed its potentiality;
much less realized its tremendous importance in solving the problem
of his social, financial, and professional success. Beauty had not
allured, nor grace enthralled his fancy; and his betrothal was a
mere incident in the quiet tenor of business routine, a necessary
means for the accomplishment of a cherished plan.

To-day, while those hot slender fingers clung to his, and he leaned
over the pillow, watching his victim, a rising tide surged, rolled
up from some unexplored ocean of strange sensations, and its
devouring waves threatened to demolish and engulf the stately
structure pride and ambition had combined to rear. A brilliant
alliance that insured great wealth, that promised a secure stepping-
stone to political preferment, was apparently a substantial bulwark
against the swelling billows of an unaccountable whim; yet he was
impotent to resist the yearning tenderness which impelled him to
forget all else, in one determined effort to rescue and shelter the
life he had been the chief agent in imperilling. Clear eyed, keen
witted, he did not for an instant deceive himself; and he knew that
neither compassion for misfortune, nor yet a chivalrous remorse for
having consigned a helpless woman to a dungeon, explained this new
emotion that threatened to dominate all others.

Cool reason assured him that under existing entanglements, the
girl's speedy death would prove the most felicitous solution of this
devouring riddle, which so unexpectedly crossed his smooth path;
then what meant the vehement protest of his throbbing heart, the
passionate longing to snatch her from disease, and disgrace, and
keep her safe forever in the close cordon of his arms?

The door was cautiously opened and closed, and noiselessly as a
phantom, Leo Gordon stood within the room. One swift survey enabled
her to grasp all the details. The small, comfortless, dismal
apartment, the barred narrow window, the bare floor, the low iron
cot in one corner, with its beautiful burden; the watching attitude
of the man, who for years had possessed her heart. Resting one elbow
on his knee, his chin leaned on his left hand, but the light fell
full on his handsome face, and she started, marvelled at the
expression of the brilliant eyes fixed upon the sufferer; eyes
suffused and eloquent with tenderness, never before seen in their
cold sparkling depths.

Mighty indeed must be the compassion, evocative of that intense
yearning look in his usually guarded, irresponsive countenance. A
painfully humiliating sense of her own personal incompetence to
arouse the feeling, so legibly printed on her lover's features,
jarred upon Leo's heart like a twanging dissonance breaking the
harmonious flow of minor chords; but a noble pity strangled this
jealous thrill, and she softly approached the cot.

The rustle of her dress attracted his attention, and glancing up, he
saw his betrothed at his side. One might have counted ten, while
they silently regarded each other; and as if conscious of having
unmasked some disloyalty, scarcely yet acknowledged to himself,
haughty defiance hardened and darkened his face. Involuntarily his
hold on Beryl's fingers tightened.

"Prison wards are not proper fields for the cultivation and display
of Miss Gordon's amateur kid glove charity. I hope, at least, it was
a species of exaggerated high-flown sentimentality, rather than mere
feminine curiosity that tempted you to precincts revolting to the
delicacy and refinement with which my imagination invested you."

"My motives I shall not submit to the crucible of your criticism;
and a little reflection will probably suggest to you, that perhaps
you are unduly enlarging the limits, and prematurely exercising the
rights of anticipated censorship. There are blunders that trench
closely upon the borders of crime, and if professional zeal has
betrayed you into the commission of a great wrong upon an innocent
woman, it is a sacred duty to your victim, as well as my privilege
as your betrothed, to alleviate her suffering as much as possible,
and to repair the injury for which you are responsible. When human
life and reputation are at stake, hypercritical fastidiousness is
less pardonable than the deplorable mistake that endangers both."

"And if I have not blundered; and she be guilty?"

"Then your presence here, can only be explained by motives so
malignant and contemptible, that I blush to ascribe them to you."

"If I am morbidly sensitive about your line of conduct you should
understand and pardon my jealous espionage."

"If I, realizing that you are act infallible, entertain a nervous
dread that unintentionally you may have inflicted an irreparable
wrong, you at least should not feel offended, because I am sensitive
as regards reflections upon your honor as a gentleman, and your
astuteness as a lawyer."

Her fair face had flushed; his grew pale.

"Leo, is this to be our first quarrel?"

"If so, you are entitled to the role of protagonist."

He put out his left hand, and took hers, while his right was closely
clasping one that lay upon the chintz coverlid.

What strange obliquity of vision, what inscrutable perversity
possessed him, he asked himself, as he looked up at the slight
elegant figure, clad in costly camel's-hair garments, with Russian
sables wrapped about her delicate throat, with a long drifting plume
casting flickering shadows over her sweet flowerlike face; the
attractive embodiment of patrician birth and environment of riches,
and all that the world values most--then down at the human epitome
of wretchedness, represented by a bronze-crowned head, with
singularly magnetic eyes, crimsoned cheeks, and a perfect mouth,
whose glowing, fever-rouged lips were curved in a shadowy smile, as
she muttered incoherently of incidents, connected with the life of a
poverty-stricken adventuress? Was friendly fate flying danger
signals by arranging and accentuating this vivid contrast, in order
to recall his vagrant wits, to cement his wavering allegiance?

He was a brave man, but he shivered slightly, as he confronted his
own insurgent and defiant heart; and involuntarily, his fingers
dropped Leo's, and his right hand tightened on the hot palm
throbbing against it.

On that dark tossing main, where delirium drove Beryl's
consciousness to and fro like a rudderless wreck, did some
mysterious communion of spirits survive? Did some subtle mesmeric
current telegraph her soul, that her foul wrongs were at last
avenged? Whatever the cause, certainly a strangely clear, musical
laugh broke suddenly from her lovely lips, mingled with a triumphant
"Che sara, sara!" The heavy lids slowly drooped, the head turned
wearily away.

Smothering a long drawn sigh, which his pride throttled, Mr. Dunbar
rose and stood beside his fiancee.

"You have been feeling her pulse, how is the fever?" asked Leo.

"About as high as it can mount. The pulse is frightfully rapid. I
did not even attempt to count it."

"Mrs. Singleton tells me she is entirely unconscious--recognizes no
one."

"At times, I think she has partly lucid glimpses; for instance, a
little while ago she called me 'Tiberius', the same appellation she
unaccountably bestowed on me the day of her preliminary examination.
Evidently she associates me with every cruel, brutal monster, and
even in delirium maintains her aversion."

Miss Gordon's hand stole into his, pressing it gently in mute
attestation of sympathy. After a moment, she said in a low tone:

"She is very beautiful. What a noble, pure face? How exquisitely
turned her white throat, and wrists, and hands."

He merely inclined his head in assent.

"It seems a profanation to connect the idea of crime with so lovely
and refined a woman. Lennox?"

He turned, and looked into her brown eyes, which were misty with
tears.

"Well, my dear Leo, what is burdening your generous heart?"

"Do you, can you, believe her guilty? Her whole appearance is a
powerful protest."

"Appearances are sometimes fatally false. I think you told me, that
the purest and loveliest face, guileless as an angel's, that you saw
in Europe, was a portrait of Vittoria Accoramboni; yet she was
veritably the 'White Devil', 'beautiful as the leprosy, dazzling as
the lightning'. Do I believe her guilty? From any other lips than
yours, I should evade the question; but I proudly acknowledge your
right to an expression of my opinion, when--"

"I withdraw the question, because I arrogate no 'rights'. I merely
desire the privilege of sympathizing, if possible, with your views;
of sharing your anxiety in a matter involving such vital
consequences. Privilege is the gift of affection; right, the stern
allotment of law. Tell me nothing now; I shall value much more the
privilege of receiving your confidence unsolicited."

He took both her hands, drew her close to him, and looked steadily
down into her frank tender eyes.

"Thank you, my dear Leo. Only your own noble self could so
delicately seek to relieve me from a painful embarrassment; but our
relations invest you with both rights and privileges, which for my
sake at least, I prefer you should exercise. You must allow me to
conclude my sentence; you are entitled to my opinion--when matured.
As far as I am capable of judging, the evidence against her is--
overwhelmingly condemnatory. I thought so before her arrest;
believed it when her preliminary examination ended, and subsequent
incidents strengthen and confirm that opinion; yet a theory has
dawned upon me, that may possibly lighten her culpability. I need
not tell you, that I feel acutely the responsibility of having
brought her here for trial, and especially of her present pitiable
condition, which causes me sleepless nights. If she should live, I
shall make some investigation in a distant quarter, which may to
some extent exculpate her, by proving her an accessory instead of
principal. My--generous Leo, you shall be the first to whom I
confide my solution--when attained. I am sorely puzzled, and
harassed by conflicting conjectures; and you must be patient with
me, if I appear negligent or indifferent to the privileges of that
lovely shrine where my homage is due."

"If you felt less keenly the distressing circumstances surrounding
you, I should deeply regret my misplaced confidence in your
character; and certainly you must acquit me of the selfishness that
could desire to engross your attention at this juncture."

Desirous of relieving him of all apprehension relative to a possible
misconstruction of his motives and conduct, she left one hand in
his, and laid the other with a caressing touch on his arm; an
unprecedented demonstration, which at any other time would have
surprised and charmed him.

"Ah, what a melancholy sight! So much delicate refined beauty, in
this horrible lair of human beasts! Lennox, let us hope that the
mercy of God will call her speedily to His own bar of justice,
before she suffers the torture and degradation of trial, by earthly
tribunals."

She felt the slight shudder that crept over him, the sudden start
with which he dropped her hand, and bent once more over the cot.

"God forbid she should die now, leaving the burden of her murder on
my soul!"

His countenance was averted, but the ferver of his adjuration filled
her with a vague sense of painful foreboding.

"Is it friendly to desire the preservation of a life, whose probable
goal seems the gallows, or perpetual imprisonment? Poor girl! In the
choice of awful alternatives, death would come here as an angel of
mercy."

Leo took Beryl's hand in hers, and tears filled her eyes as she
noted the symmetry of the snowy fingers, the delicate arch of the
black brows, the exceeding beauty of the waving outline where the
rich mahogany-hued hair touched the forehead and temples, that
gleamed like polished marble.

"Is it friendly to wish an innocent girl to go down into her grave,
leaving a name stained for all time by suspicion, if not absolute
conviction of a horrible crime?"

Mr. Dunbar spoke through set teeth, and Leo's astonishment at the
expression of his countenance, delayed an answer, which was
prevented by the entrance of Mrs. Singleton.

"Miss Gordon, your uncle wishes to know whether you are ready to go
home; as he has an engagement that calls him away?"

Did Leo imagine the look of relief that seemed to brighten Mr.
Dunbar's face, as he said promptly:

"With your permission, I will see you safely down stairs, and commit
you to Judge Dent's care."

Standing beside the cot, she watched Mrs. Singleton measure the
medicine from a vial into a small glass. When the warden's wife
knelt down, and putting one arm under the pillow elevated it
slightly, while she held the glass to the girl's lips, Beryl
attempted to push it aside.

"Take it for me, dear child; it will make you sleep, and ease your
pain."

The beautiful eyes regarded her wistfully, then wandered to the face
of the lawyer and rested, spellbound.

"Here, swallow this. It is not bad to take."

Mrs. Singleton patted her cheek and again essayed to administer the
draught, but without success.

"Let me try."

Mr. Dunbar took the glass, but as he bent down, the girl began to
shiver as though smitten with a mortal chill. She writhed away, put
out her shuddering hands to ward it off; and starting up, her eyes
filled with a look of indescribable horror and loathing, as she
cried out:

"Ricordo! Oh, mother--it is Ricordo! I see, it! Father--it was my
Pegli handkerchief!--with the fuchsias you drew! Father--ask Christ
to pity me!"

She sank back quivering with dread, pitiable to contemplate; but
after a few moments her hands sought each other, and her trembling
lips moved evidently in prayer, though the petition was inaudible.
Mrs. Singleton sponged her forehead with iced water, and by degrees
the convulsive shivering became less violent. The wise nurse began
in a subdued tone to sing slowly, "Nearer my God to Thee," and after
a little while, the sufferer grew still, the heavy lids lifted once
or twice, then closed, and the laboring brain seized on some new
vision in the world of fevered dreams.

Mrs. Singleton took the medicine from the attorney, and put it
aside.

"Sleep is her best physic. When these nervous shivers come on, I
find a hymn chanted, soothes her as it does one of my babies. Poor
child! she makes my heart ache so sometimes, that I want to scream
the pain away. How people with any human nature left in them, can
look at her and listen to her pitiful cries to her dead father, and
her dying mother, and her far-off God, and then believe that her
poor beautiful hands could shed blood, passes my comprehension; and
all such ought to go on four feet, and browse like other brutes. I
am poor, but I vow before the Lord, that I would not stand in your
shoes, Mr. Dunbar, for all the gold in the Government vaults, and
all the diamonds in Brazil."

Tears were dripping on the costly furs about Leo's neck, as she
moved closer to the attorney, and linked her arm in his:

"Mr. Dunbar, we will detain my uncle no longer. Mrs. Singleton has
told me, that one of her children is ill, had a spasm last night;
and since maternal duties are most imperative, it is impossible for
her to give undivided attention to this poor sufferer. If you will
kindly take me down stairs, I will call at the 'Sheltering Arms',
and secure the services of one of the 'Sisters' who is an
experienced nurse. This will relieve Mrs. Singleton, and we shall
all feel assured that our poor girl has careful and tender watching,
and every comfort that anxious sympathy can provide."




CHAPTER XII.


It was midnight in November, keenly cold, but windless; and in the
purplish sky, the wintry crown of stars burned with silvery lustre,
unlike the golden glow of constellations throbbing in sultry summer,
and their white fires sparkled, flared as if blown by interstellar
storms. The large family of Lazarus huddled over dying embers on
darkening hearths, and shivered under scanty shreds of covering; but
the house of Dives was alight with the soft radiance of wax candles,
fragrant with the warm aroma of multitudinous exotics, and brimming
with waves of riotous music, on which merry-hearted favorites of
fashion swam in measured mazes. The "reception" given by Judge
Parkman to the Governor and his staff, on the occasion of a review
of State troops at X--, was at its height; and several counties had
been skimmed for the creme de la creme of most desirable
representatives of wit, wealth and beauty.

Miss Gordon had arrived unusually late, and as she entered the room,
leaning on her uncle's arm, she noticed that Mr. Dunbar was the
centre of a distinguished group standing under the chandelier. He
was gently fanning his hostess, who stood beside the Governor, and
evidently he was narrating some spicy incident, or uttering some
pungent witticism, whereat all laughed heartily. The light fell full
on his fine figure, which rose above all surrounding personages, and
was faultlessly apparelled in evening dress; and Leo's heart filled
with tender pride, at the consciousness that he was all her own. The
exigencies of etiquette prevented for more than an hour any nearer
approach, but when Mr. Dunbar had rendered "Caesar's things" to
social Caesar, and paid tribute of bows, smiles, compliments and
persiflage into the coffer of custom, he made his way through the
throng, to the spot where his betrothed stood resting after her
third dance.

"Will Miss Gordon grant me a promenade in lieu of the dance, which
misfortunes conspired to prevent me from securing earlier in the
evening?"

He drew her hand under his arm, and his eyes ran with proprietorial
freedom over the details of her costume, pale blue satin, creamy
foam of white lace, soft sheen of large pearls, and bouquet of
exquisite half blown La France roses.

Since their betrothal, he had claimed the privilege of sending the
flowers she wore, on special occasions, and she had invariably
expressed her appreciation through the dainty lips of a boutonniere
arranged by her own fingers. Now while he recognized the roses
resting on her corsage, her eyes dwelt on her favorite double lilac
violets, nestling in the buttonhole of his coat.

"You were very late to-night. I loitered in ambush about the
precincts of the dressing-room, hoping for the pleasure of
conducting you down-stairs; but 'the best laid schemes o' mice and
men gang aft aglee', and I became the luckless prey of similar
tactics. That marauding Tomyris, Mrs. Halsey, sallied out at the
head of her column of daughters, espied me lurking behind the
portiere, and proclaiming her embarras de richesse, 'paid me the
compliment' of consigning one fair campaigner, Miss Eloise Hermione,
to my care. Fancy the strain on courtesy, as I accepted my 'quite
unexpected good fortune'!"

He spoke with a nervous rapidity, at variance with his usual
imperturbable deliberateness of manner, and she thought she had
never seen his eyes so restless and brilliant.

"I was unusually late, owing to the fact that the Governor and staff
dined with Uncle Mitchell, and they lingered so long over their
cigars and wine, that I was delayed in the drawing-room, waiting for
them; consequently was very late in changing my dress. We were sorry
you were prevented from joining us. Uncle pronounced the dinner a
perfect success; and certainly Governor Glenbeigh was in his
happiest mood, and particularly agreeable."

"Given his hostess, and entourage, could he possibly have been less?
Rumor's hundred tongues wag with the announcement, that his
Excellency is no longer inconsolable for his wife's death; and
desires to testify to the happiness of conjugal relations, by a
renewal of the sweet bondage; a curiously subtile compliment to the
deceased. If I may be pardoned the enormity of the heresy, I think
Shakspeare blundered supremely, when he gave Iago's soul to a man.
Diabolical cunning, shrewd malevolence pure and simple, armed with
myriads of stings for hypodermic incisions that poison a man's
blood, should be appropriately costumed in a moss-green velvet robe,
should wear frizzled bangs as yellow as yonder bouquet of Marechal
Neils, so suggestive of the warning flag flying over pest-houses!"

"It is very evident you are not equally generous in surrendering the
amiability of Timon, along with the depravity of Iago, to the
arsenal of feminine weapons. What corroding mildew of discontent has
fallen from Mrs. Parkman's velvet dress, and rusted the bright blade
of your chivalry?"

"The very breath of Iago, filling my ears and firing my heart with
the architectural details of her coveted 'castle in Spain.'
Glenbeigh is her cousin. The ladder of his preferment is set up
before my eyes, and his Excellency springs up the rounds, from
Governor to Senatorship, thence to a place in the Cabinet, certainly
to an important foreign embassy; where, in the eternal fitness of
things, somebody, somebody with tender brown eyes like a thrush's,
and the voice of a siren, and the red lips of Hebe--will be invited
to reign as l'ambassadrice! If I am not as mad with jealous despair
as Othello, attribute my escape either to a sublime faith in your
adorable constancy and incorruptibility, or to my own colossal
vanity, fatuous beyond absolution."

He pressed her arm closer to his side, and covered with one hand the
gloved fingers resting on his sleeve; then added:

"You must permit me to congratulate you upon your beautiful toilette
to-night. The harmony of the dress, and the grace of the wearer
leave nothing to be desired. Although debarred the pleasure of
dining with you, I had hoped to enter, at least, with the coffee,
but the freight train upon which I returned, was delayed; and I had
no choice but to await your arrival here."

He indulged so rarely in verbal compliments, that she flushed with
profound gratification at flip fervor of his tone.

"I am glad you like my dress, to which your roses lend the loveliest
garniture. I was not aware that X--could furnish at this season such
superb La France buds. Where did you find them?"

"They travelled several hundred miles, for the privilege of nestling
against my Leo's heart."

Spartan thieves are not the only heroic sufferers who smile and make
no moan, clasping close the hidden fangs ravening on their vitals.

"As you mentioned in your note that very important business had
called you unexpectedly away, I hope your mission proved both
pleasant and successful."

A shadow drifted over his countenance, like that cast by some summer
cloud long becalmed, which sets sail before a sudden gust.

"Only a modicum of success to counterbalance the disagreeable
features of a journey in a freight train caboose."

"Why do you hazard that dangerous schedule, instead of waiting for
the passenger express?"

"Business exigencies narrow the limits of choice; moreover, had I
waited for the express, I should have missed the coveted pleasure of
this meeting with you. The rosy glamour of happy anticipation
conquers even the discomfort of a freight caboose."

Did she suspect that some sullen undercurrent of intense feeling
drove these eddying foam bells of flattery into the stream of
conversation; or was her reply merely a chance ricochet shot, more
accurately effective than direct fire?

"This afternoon I had a note from Sister Serena, asking for a few
articles conducive to the comfort of a sick room; and I really
cannot determine whether we should feel regret, or relief at the
tidings that that unfortunate girl--can scarcely--"

"Spare me the Egyptian mummy at my feast! The memento mori when I
would fain forget. Let me inhale the perfume of your roses, without
hearing that possibly a worm battens on their petals. Will you ride
with me tomorrow afternoon?"

"I am sorry that an engagement to dine will prevent, as the
afternoons are so short."

"Are you going to the Percy's?"

"Yes. Will you not be there?"

"Too bad! I have just declined attending that dinner, because I had
planned the horseback ride. Formerly fate seemed to smile upon me;
now she shows herself a scowling capricious beldam. I have lost this
evening, waiting to see you, and now, I must steal away unnoticed;
because of an important matter which admits of no delay. Have you
promised to dance with Mayfield? Here he comes. Good-night, my dear
Leo, expect to see me at 'The Lilacs' at the earliest possible
moment."

Unobserved he made his escape, and hurried away. At a livery stable
he stopped to order his horse saddled, and brought to his door, and
a few moments later, stood before the grate in his law office, where
the red glow of the coals had paled under ashy veils. From the
letter-rack over the mantel, he took a note containing only a line:

"She has reached the crisis. We have no hope."
"SINGLETON."

In the hot embers, it smoked, shrivelled, disappeared; and the
attorney crossed his arms over his chest to crush back the heavy
sigh struggling for escape. The long overcoat buttoned from throat
to knee, enhanced his height, and upon his stern, handsome features
had settled an expression of sorrowful perplexity; while his keen
eyes showed the feverish restlessness that, despite his efforts,
betrayed heartache. Above the heads of the gay throng he had just
left, he had seen all that evening a slender white hand beckoning to
him from the bars of a dungeon; and dominating the music of the ball
room, the laughter of its dancers, had risen the desperate, accusing
cry:

"You have ruined my life!"

Was it true, that his hand had dashed a foul blot of shame upon the
fall pure page of a girl's existence, and written there the fatal
finis? If she died, could he escape the moral responsibility of
having been her murderer? Amid the ebb and flow of conflicting
emotions, one grim fact stared at him with sardonic significance. If
he had ruined her life, retribution promptly exacted a costly
forfeit; and his happiness was destined to share her grave.

He neither analyzed nor understood the nature of the strange
fascination which he had ineffectually striven to resist; and he
ground his teeth, and clinched his hands with impotent rage, under
the stinging and humiliating consciousness that his unfortunate
victim had grappled his heart to hers, and would hold it forever in
bondage. No other woman had ever stirred the latent and unsuspected
depths of his tenderness; but at the touch of her hand, the flood
burst forth, sweeping aside every barrier of selfish interest,
defying the ramparts of worldly pride. Guilty or innocent, he loved
her; and the wretchedness he had inflicted, was recoiling swiftly
upon himself.

Unbuttoning his overcoat, he took from an inside pocket, the torn
half of a large envelope, and unlocking the drawer of his desk,
hunted for a similar fragment. Spreading them out before him, he
fitted the zigzag edges with great nicety, and there lay the well-
known superscription: "Last Will and Testament of Robert Luke
Darrington." One corner of the last found bit was brown and mud-
stained, but the handwriting was in perfect preservation. As he
stooped to put it all back in a secret drawer, something fell on the
floor. He picked up the dainty boutonniere of pale sweet violets,
and looked at it, while a frown darkened his countenance, as though
he recognized some plenipotentiary pleading for fealty to a sacred
compact.

"Poor Leo! how little she suspects disloyalty. How infinite is her
trust, and what a besotted ingrate I am!"

He tossed the accusing flowers into the grate, took his riding-whip
and went down to the door, where his horse was champing the bit, and
pawing with impatience. Along the deserted streets, out of the
sleeping town, he rode toward the long stone bridge that spanned the
winding river. When he had reached the centre, his horse darted
aside, because of the sudden leap of a black cat from the coping of
the nearest pier, whence she sped on, keeping just ahead of him. The
spectral sickle of a waning moon hung on the edge of the sky, and up
and down the banks of the stream floated phantoms of silvery mist,
here covering the water with impalpable wreaths, and there drifting
away to enable Andromeda to print her starry image on the glassy
surface.

Behind stretched the city, marked by lines of gas lamps; in front
rose the hill clothed with forests; and frowning down upon the
rider, the huge shadow of the dismal dungeon crouched like a
stealthy beast ready to spring upon him. Dark as the deeds of its
inmates, the mass of stone blotted the sky, save in one corner,
where a solitary light shone through iron lattice work. Was it a
beacon of hope, or did the rays fall on features cold under the kiss
of death?

Spurring his horse up the rocky hill, Mr. Dunbar was greeted by the
baying of two bloodhounds within the enclosure; and soon after, Mr.
Singleton conducted him up the steps leading to the room where Beryl
had been placed.

"She is alive; that is all. The doctor said she could not last till
midnight, but it is now half-past one; and my wife has never lost
hope. She has sent the nurse off to get some sleep, and you will
find Susie in charge."

The hazel eyes of the gaoler's wife were humid with tears, as she
glanced up at the attorney, and motioned him to the low chair she
vacated.

"I knew you would come, and when I heard you gallop across the
bridge, I sent Sister Serena off to bed. There is nothing to be done
now, but watch and pray. If she ever wakes in this world she will be
rational, and she will get well. The nurse thinks she will pass away
in this stupor; but I have faith that she will not die, until she
clears her name."

Nature makes some women experts in the fine art of interpreting
countenance and character, and by a mysterious and unerring
divination, Mrs. Singleton knew that her visitor desired no
companion in his vigils; hence, after flitting about the room for a
few moments, she added:

"If you will sit here a while, I can look after my babies. Should
any change occur, tap at my door; I shall not be long away."

What a melancholy change in the sleeper, during the few days of his
absence; how much thinner the hollow cheek, how sunken the closed
eyes; how indescribably sharpened the outlines of each feature. The
face which had formerly suggested some marble statue, had now the
finer tracery as of an exquisite cameo; and oblivion of all earthly
ills had set there the seal of a perfect peace. She lay so
motionless, with her hands on her breast, that Mr. Dunbar bent his
head close to hers, to listen to her respiration; but no sound was
audible, and when his ear touched her lips, their coldness sent a
shiver of horror through his stalwart frame. Pure as the satin folds
of an annunciation lily pearled with dew, was the smooth girlish
brow, where exhaustion hung heavy drops; and about her temples the
damp hair clung in glossy rings, framing the pallid, deathlike face.

At her wrist, the fluttering thread eluded his grasp, and kneeling
beside the cot, he laid his head down on her breast, dreading to
find no pulsation; but slow and faint, he felt the tired heart beat
feebly against his cheek; and tears of joy, that reason could
neither explain nor justify, welled up and filled his eyes. Leaning
his head on her pillow, he took one hand between both his, and
watched the profound sleep that seemed indeed twin sister of death.

Softened by distance came the deep mellow sound of the city clock
striking two. Down among the willows fringing the river bank, some
lonely water-fowl uttered its plaintive cry, whereat the bloodhounds
bayed hoarsely; then velvet-sandalled silence laid her soothing
touch upon the world, and softly took all nature into her restful
arms.

In the searching communion which he held with his own heart, during
that solemn watch, Mr. Dunbar thrust aside all quibbles and
disguises, and accepted as unalterable, two conclusions.

She was innocent of crime, and he loved her; but she knew who had
committed the murder, and would suffer rather than betray the
criminal. The conjecture that she was shielding a lover, was
accompanied by so keen a pang of jealous pain, that it allowed him
no room to doubt the nature or intensity of the feeling which she
had inspired.

In her wan loveliness, she seemed as stainless as a frozen snowdrop,
and while his covetous gaze dwelt upon her he felt that he could lay
her in her coffin now, with less suffering, than see her live to
give her brave heart to any other man. To lift her spotless and
untrampled from the mire of foul suspicion, where his hand had
hurled her, was the supreme task to which he proposed to devote his
energies; but selfishness was the sharpest spur; she must be his,
only his, otherwise he would prefer to see her in the arms of death.

So the night waned; and twice, when the warden's wife stole to the
door, he lilted his head and waved her back. When the clock in the
tower struck four, he felt a slight quiver in the fingers lying
within his palm, and Beryl's face turned on the pillow, bringing her
head against his shoulder. Was it the magnet of his touch drawing
her unconsciously toward him, or merely the renewal of strength,
attested already by the quickened throb of the pulse that beat under
his clasp? By degrees her breathing became audible to his strained
ear, and once a sigh, such as escapes a tired child, told that
nature was rallying her physical forces, and that the tide was
turning. Treacherous to his plighted troth, and to the trusting
woman whom he had assiduously wooed and won, he yielded to the
hungry yearning that possessed him, and suddenly pressed his lips to
Beryl's beautiful mouth. Under that fervent touch, consciousness
came back, and the lids lifted, the dull eyes looked into his with
drowsy wonder. Stepping swiftly to the door which stood ajar, he met
Mrs. Singleton, and put his hand on her shoulder.

"She is awake, and will soon be fully conscious, but perfect quiet
is the only safeguard against relapse. When she remembers, leave her
as much alone as possible, and answer no questions."

Holding her baby on her breast, Mrs. Singleton whispered:

"Put out the lamp, so that she can see nothing to remind her."

As he took his hat, and put his hand on the lamp, he looked back at
the cot, and saw the solemn eyes fixed upon him. He extinguished the
light, and passed into the room where Susie Singleton stood waiting.

"She will not know Sister Serena, and for a day or two I will keep
out of sight when she is awake. Mr. Dunbar, God has done His part,
now see that you do yours. Have you found out who 'Ricordo' is?"

"Certainly, it is a thing; not a person. As yet the word has given
no aid."

"Then you have discovered nothing new during your absence?"

"Yes, I have found the missing half of the envelope which contained
General Darrington's will; but ask me no questions at present. For
her sake, I must work quietly. Send me a note at twelve o'clock,
that I may know her exact condition, and the opinion of the doctor.
Has nothing been heard from Dyce?"

"As far as I know, not a syllable."

They shook hands, and once more Mr. Dunbar sprang into his saddle.
Overhead the constellations glowed like crown jewels on black
velvet, but along the eastern horizon, where the morning-star
burned, the sky had blanched; and the air was keen with the
additional iciness that always precedes the dawn. Earth was powdered
with rime, waiting to kindle into diamonds when the sun smote its
flower crystals, and the soft banners of white fog trailed around
the gray arches and mossy piers of the old bridge. At a quick gallop
Mr. Dunbar crossed the river, passed through the heart of the city,
and slackened his pace only when he found himself opposite the
cemetery, on the road leading to "Elm Bluff." As the iron gate
closed behind him, he walked his horse, up the long avenue, and when
he fastened him to the metal ring in the ancient poplar, which stood
sentinel before the deserted House, the deep orange glow that paves
the way for coming suns, had dyed all the sky, blotting out the
stars; and the new day smiled upon a sleeping world. The peacock
perched upon the balustrade of the terrace greeted him vociferously,
and after some moments his repeated knock was answered by the
cautious opening of the front door, and Bedney's gray head peered
out.

"Lord--Mars Lennox! Is it you? What next? 'Pears to me, there's
nothing left to happen; but howsomever, if ther's more to come, tell
us what's to pay now?"

"Bedney, I want you to help me in a little matter, where your
services may be very valuable; and as it concerns your old master's
family, I am sure you will gladly enter into my plan--"

"Bless your soul, Mars Lennox, you are too good a lieyer to be shore
of anything, but the undertaker and the tax collector. I am so old
and broke down in sperrits, that you will s'cuse me from undertaking
of any jobs, where I should be obleeged to pull one foot out'en the
grave before I could start. I ain't ekal to hard work now, and like
the rest of wore-out stock, I am only worth my grabs in old fields."

Sniffing danger, Bedney warily resolved to decline all overtures, by
taking refuge in his decrepitude; but the attorney's steady
prolonged gaze disconcerted him.

"You have no interest, then, in discovering the wretch who murdered
your master? That is rather suspicious."

"What ain't 'spicious to you, Mars Lennox? It comes as natchal to
you to 'spicion folks, as to eat or sleep, and it's your trade. You
believe I know something that I haven't tole; but I swear I done
give up everything to Mars Alfred; and if my heart was turned inside
out, and scraped with a fine-tooth comb, it wouldn't be no cleaner
than what it is. I know if I was lying you would ketch me, and I
should own up quick; 'cause your match doesn't go about in human
flesh; but all the lancets and all the doctors can't git no blood
out'en a turnup."

"You are quite willing, then, to see General Darrington's
granddaughter suffer for the crime?"

"'Fore Gord! Mars Lennox, you don't tote fair!  'Pears to me you are
riding two horses. Which side is you on?"

"Always on the side of justice and truth, and it is to help your
poor young mistress that I came to see you; but it seems you are too
superannuated to stretch out your hand and save her."

"Ain't you aiming to prove she killed old marster? That's what you
sot out to do; and tarrapin's claws are slippery, compared to your
grip, when you take holt."

The old negro stood with his white head thrown back, and unfeigned
perplexity printed on his wrinkled features, while he scanned the
swart face, where a heavy frown gathered.

"I set out this morning to find a faithful, old family servant,
whose devotion has never before been questioned; but evidently I
have wasted my confidence as well as my time. Where is Dyce? She is
worth a hundred superannuated cowards."

"Don't call no names, Mars Lennox. If there's one mean thing I
nachally despises as a stunnin' insult, it's being named white-
livered; and my Confederate record is jest as good as if I wore
three gilt stars on my coat collar. You might say I was a liar and a
thief, and maybe I would take it as a joke; but don't call Bedney
Darrington no coward! It bruises my feelins mor'n I'le stand. Lem'me
tell you the Gord's truth; argufying with lie-yers is wuss than
shootin' at di-dappers, and that is sport I don't hanker after. I
ain't spry enuff to keep up with the devil, when you are whipping
him around the stump; and I ain't such a forsaken idjut as to jump
in the dark. Tell me straight out what you want me to do. Tote fair,
Mars Lennox."

"I am about to offer a reward of two hundred and fifty dollars, and
I thought I would allow you privately the opportunity of securing
the money, before I made it public. Where is Dyce?"

"You might as well ax the man in the moon. The only satisfaction she
gin me when she left home, was--she was gwine to New York to hunt
for Miss Ellie. I tole her she was heading for a wild goose chase,
and her answer signified she was leaving all of them fowls behind.
If she was here, she'd be only a 'clean chip in your homny pot'; for
she wouldn't never touch your job with a forty-foot pole, and what's
more, she'd tie my hands. I ain't afeard of my ole 'oman, but I
respects her too high to cross her; and if ever you git married, you
will find it's a mighty good rule to 'let sleeping dogs lay'. Who do
you expect me to ketch for two hundred and fifty dollars?"

"A lame negro man, about medium size, who was seen carrying a bundle
on the end of a stick, and who was hanging about the railroad
station on the night of General Darrington's death. He probably
lives on some plantation south of town, as he was travelling in that
direction, after the severe storm that night. I want him, not
because he had any connection with your master's murder, but to
obtain from him a description of a strange white man, whom he
directed to the railroad water-tank. If you can discover that lame
negro, and bring him to my office, I will pay you two hundred and
fifty dollars, and give him a new suit of clothes. The only hope for
General Darrington's granddaughter is in putting that man on the
witness stand, to corroborate her statement of a conversation which
she heard. This is Wednesday. I will give you until Saturday noon to
report. If you do not succeed I shall then advertise. If you wish to
save Miss Brentano, help me to find that man."

He swung himself into the saddle, and rode away, leaving Bedney
staring after him, in pitiable dubiety as to his own line of duty.

"Wimmen are as hard to live peaceable with as a hatful of hornets,
but the'r brains works spryer even than the'r tongues; and they do
think as much faster 'an a man, as a express train beats er eight
ox-team. Dyce is the safest sign-post! If she was only here now, I
couldn't botch things, for she sees clare through a mill-stone, and
she'd shove me the right way. If I go a huntin', I may flounder into
a steel trap; if I stand still, wuss may happen. Mars Lennox is too
much for me. I wouldn't trust him no further 'n I would a fat
possum. I am afeard of his oily tongue. He sot out to hang that poor
young gal, and now he is willing to pay two hundred and fifty
dollars to show the court he was a idjut and a slanderer! I ain't
gwine to set down on no such spring gun as that! Dyce ought to be
here. When Mars Lennox turns summersets in the court, before the
judge, I don't want to belong to his circus--but, oh Lord! If I
could only find out which side he raily is on?"




CHAPTER XIII.


During the early stages of her convalescence, Beryl, though
perfectly rational, asked no questions, made no reference to her
gloomy surroundings and maintained a calm, but mournful taciturnity,
very puzzling to Mrs. Singleton, who ascribed it at first to mental
prostration, which rendered her comparatively obtuse; but ere long,
a different solution presented itself, and she marvelled at the
silence with which a desperate battle was fought. With returning
consciousness, the prisoner had grasped the grievous burden of her
fate, unflinchingly lifted and bound it upon her shoulders; and
though she reeled and bent under it, made no moan, indulged no
regret, uttered no invective.

One cold dismal day, when not a rift was visible in the leaden sky,
and a slanting gray veil of sleety rain darkened the air and pelted
the dumb, shivering earth, Beryl sat on the side of her cot, with
her feet resting on the round of a chair, and her hands clasped at
the back of her head. Her eyes remarkably large from the bluish
circles illness had worn beneath them, were fixed in a strained,
unwinking, far-away gaze upon the window, where black railing showed
the outside world as through some grim St. Lawrence's gridiron.

From time to time the warden's wife glanced from her sewing toward
the motionless figure, reluctant to obtrude upon her revery, yet
equally loath to leave her a prey to melancholy musing. After a
while, she saw the black lashes quiver, and fall upon the waxen
cheeks, then, as she watched, great tears glittered, rolled slowly,
dripped softly, but there was no sigh, no sound of sobs. Leaning
closer, she laid her arm across the girl's knee.

"What is it, dearie? Tell me."

There was no immediate reply; when Beryl spoke, her voice was calm,
low and measured, as in one where all the springs of youth, hope,
and energy are irreparably broken.

"Every Gethsemane has its strengthening Angels. The agony of the
Garden brought them to Christ. I thank God, mine did not fail me. If
they had not come, I think I could never have borne this last misery
that earth can inflict upon me. My mother is dead."

"Why distress yourself with sad forebodings? Weakness makes you
despondent, but you must try to hope for the best; and I dare say in
a few days, you will have good news from your mother."

"I shook hands with Hope, and in her place sits the only companion
who will abide with me during the darkness that is coming on--
Patience, pale-browed, meek-eyed, sad-lipped Patience. If I can only
keep my hold upon her skirts, till the end. To me, no good news can
ever come. As long as mother lived, I had an incentive to struggle;
now I am alone, and they who thirst for my blood are welcome to take
it speedily. I know my mother is dead; I have seen her."

"Wake up, child. Your brain is weak yet and full of queer delirious
visions, and when you doze, realities and dreams are all jumbled
together. You have a deal too much sense to harbor any crazy
spiritual crankiness. Take your wine, and lie down. You have sat up
too long, and tired yourself."

"No. I have wanted to tell you for several days, because you have
been so good, and I have heard you praying here at night that God
would be merciful to me; but I waited until I had strength to be
calm. I have lain here day after day, and night after night, face to
face with desolation and despair, and now I have grown accustomed to
the horror. I know that in this world there is no escape, no help,
no hope; so--the worst is over. When you consent to fate, and
stretch out your arms to meet death, there is no more terror, only
waiting, weary waiting. I am not superstitious, and unfortunately I
am not one of the victims of dementia, whose spectral woes are born
of disordered brains. I am sadly sane; and what I am about to tell
you is no figment of feverish fancy. I do not know how long I have
been sick, but one night great peace and ease came suddenly upon me.
I swung in some soft tender arms, close to the gates of Release, and
the iron bars melted away, and my soul was borne toward the
wonderful light; but suddenly a shock, a strange thrill ran through
me, and the bars rose again, and the light faded. Then all at once
my father and my mother stood beside me, bent over me. Father said:
'Courage, my daughter, courage! Bear your cross a little longer,' My
mother wept, and said, 'My good little girl. So faithful, so true. I
died in peace, trusting your promise. For my sake can you endure
till the end?' They faded away; and sorrow sat down once more,
clutching my heart; and death, the Angel who keeps the key of the
Gate of Release, turned his back upon me. I had almost escaped; I
was close to the other world, and I was conscious. I saw my mother's
spirit; it was no delirious fancy. I know that she is dead. Even in
the world of the released, she grieves over the awful consequences
of my obedience to her wishes. Mortal agony of body and soul brings
us so near to the borderland, that we have glimpses; and those we
love, lean across the boundary line and compassionate us. So my
Gethsemane called down the one strengthening Angel of all the
heavenly hosts, who had most power to comfort my heart, and gird me
for my fate, my father, my noble father. God, in pity, sent him to
exhort me to bear my cross bravely."

The low solemn voice ceased, and in the silence that followed, only
the dull patter of the rain, and the persistent purring of a kitten
curled up on the cot were audible. Mrs. Singleton finished the
buttonhole in Dick's apron, and threaded her needle.

"If it comforts you at all to believe that, I have no right to say
anything."

"You think, however, that I am the victim of some hallucination?"

"Not even that. I think you had a very vivid dream, and being
exhausted, you mistook a feverish vision for a real apparition. I
can't believe your mother is dead, because if such were the case,
Dyce would have returned at once, and told us."

"Dyce has a kind heart, and shrinks from bringing me the sad news;
for she knows my cup was already full. I know that my mother is
dead. Time will show you that I make no mistake. The veil was
lifted, and I saw beyond."

"Maybe so; may be not. I am stubborn in my opinions, and I never
could think it possible for flesh to commune with spirits. Don't let
us talk about anything that disturbs you, until you regain your
strength. Why will you not try a little of this port wine? Miss
Gordon brought it yesterday, and insisted I should give it to you,
three times a day. It is very old and mellow. Look at things
practically. God kept you alive for some wise purpose, and since you
are obliged to face trouble, is it not better to arm yourself with
all the physical vigor possible? Drink this, and lie down."

As Beryl mechanically drained the glass and handed it back, Mrs.
Singleton added:

"I believe I told you, Miss Gordon is Mr. Dunbar's sweetheart. Their
engagement is no secret, and he is a lucky man; for she is as good
as she is pretty, and as sweet as she is rich. She has shown such a
tender interest in you, and manifests so much sympathy, that I am
sure she will influence him in your favor, and I feel so encouraged
about your future."

A shadowy smile crossed the girl's wan face,

"Invest no hope in my future; for escape is as impossible for me, as
for that innocent victim foreordained to entangle his horns in the
thicket on Mount Moriah. He could have fled from the sacrificial
fire, and from Abraham's uplifted knife, back to dewy green pastures
poppy-starred, back to some cool dell where Syrian oleanders flushed
the shade, as easily as I can defy these walls, loosen the chain of
fate, elude my awful doom."

"It is because you are not yet yourself, that you take such a
despairing view of matters. After a while, things will look very
different, and you are too plucky to surrender your life without a
brave fight. A great change has come over Mr. Dunbar, and there is
no telling what he cannot do, when he sets to work. If ever a
lawyer's heart has been gnawed by remorse, it is his. He and Miss
Gordon together can pull you out of the bog, and I believe they
will."

"Mr. Dunbar's professional reputation is more precious in his sight
than a poor girl's life; moreover, even if he desired to undo his
work, he could not. I am beyond human succor. Fate nails me to a
cross, but God consents; so I make no struggle, for behind fate
stands God--and my father."

Wearily she leaned back on her pillows, and turned her face to the
wall. Mrs. Singleton drew the blankets over her, folded her own
shawl about the shoulders, and smoothing away the hair, kissed her
on the temple; then stole into the adjoining room, where her
children slept.

Before the fire that leaped and crackled in the wide chimney, and
leaning forward to rest her turbaned head against the mantelpiece,
while she spread her hands toward the blaze, stood a much muffled
figure.

"Dyce!"

Mrs. Singleton had left the door ajar, and the old woman turned and
pointed to it, laying one finger on her lips; but the warning came
too late.

"Hush! I don't want her to know I am here. Your husband told me she
was sitting up, and in her right mind, but too weak to stand any
more trouble. I wish I could run away, and never see her again, for
when I go in there, I feel like I was carrying a knife to cut the
heart out of a fawn, what the hounds had barely left life in. I
can't bear the thought of having to tell her--"

Dyce covered her face with her shawl, to stifle her sobs, and her
large frame shook. Mrs. Singleton whispered:

"Tell me quick. What is it."

"Miss Ellie is dead. I got there three days after she was buried."

The warden's wife sank into a chair, and drew the weeping negro into
one beside her.

"Do you know exactly what time she died?"

"Yes--I had it all put down in black and white. She died on Tuesday
night, just as the clock struck two; and the hospital nurse says--
Lord, amercy, Miss Susan! are you going to faint? You have turned
ashy!"

As Mrs. Singleton's thoughts recurred to the fact that it was at
that hour that Beryl lay in the stupor of the crisis, from which she
awoke perfectly conscious, and recalled the dream that the sick girl
held as a vision, she felt a vague but bewildering dread seize her
faculties, in defiance of cool reason, and scoffing scepticism.

"Go on, Dyce. I felt a little sick. Tell me--"

She paused and listened to an unusual and inexplicable noise issuing
from the next room; the harsh sound of something scraping the bare
floor.

"You must pick your time to break this misery to that poor young
thing. I can't do it. I would run a mile sooner than face her with
the news, that her ma is dead; and I have grieved and cried, till I
feel like my brains had been put in a pot and biled. The Lord knows
His bizness, of course; yes, of course He knows the best to do; but
'pears to me, His mercy hid its face behind His wrath, when He saw
fit to let that poor innercent young creetur in there get well,
after her ma was laid in the grave. It will be a harder heart than
mine what can stand by, and tell her she is motherless."

"There is no need to tell her. She knows it."

"How? Did she get the letter the Doctor said he wrote?"

"No. She thinks her mother--"

The noise explained itself. Too feeble to walk alone, Beryl had
pushed a chair before her, until she reached the door, and now stood
grasping it, swaying to and fro, as she endeavored to steady
herself. One hand held at her throat the black shawl, whose loosened
folds fell like a mourning mantle to her feet, the other clutched
the door, against the edge of which she leaned for support.

"Dyce, I have known for some days that I have no mother in this
world. I have seen her. Your kind heart dreads giving me pain, but
nothing can hurt me now. I cannot suffer any more, because I am
bruised and beaten to numbness. I want to see you alone; I want to
know everything."

At sight of her, the old woman darted forward and caught the tall,
wasted, tottering form in her strong arms. Lifting her as though she
had been a child, she bore her back to her small bleak room, laid
her softly on her cot, then knelt down, and burst into a fit of
passionate crying.

As if to shut out some torturing vision, Beryl clasped her hands
over her eyes, and when she spoke, her voice was very unsteady:

"Did you see mother alive?"

"Oh, honey, I was too late! I was three days too late to see her at
all. When I got to New York, and found the Doctor's house, he was
not at home; had just gone to Boston a half hour before I rung the
bell. His folks couldn't tell me nothin', so I had to wait two days.
When I give him your note, he looked dreadful cut up, and tole me
Miss Ellie had all the care and 'tention in the world, but nothin'
couldn't save her. He said she didn't suffer much, but was 'lirious
all the time, until the day before she died, when all of a sudden
her mind cleared. Then she axed for you, honey--God bless you, my
poor lamb! I hate to harrify your heart. The Doctor comforted her
all he could, and tole her bizness of importance had done kept you
South. Miss Ellie axed how long she could live; he said only a few
hours. She begged him to prop her up, so she could write a few
words. He says he held the paper for her, and she wrote a little,
and rested; and then she wrote a little mere and fell back
speechless. He pat the piece of paper in a invellop and sealed it,
and axed her if she wished it given to her daughter Beryl. She
couldn't talk then, but she looked at him and nodded her head. That
was about four o'clock in the evening of Tuesday. She had a sort of
spasm, and went to sleep. At two o'clock, she woke up in Heaven. He
said he felt so sorry for you--dear lamb! He wouldn't let them burry
her where most was hurried that died in the hospital. He had her
laid away in his own lot in some graveyard, where his childun was
burried, 'till he could hear from you. He tole me, she was tenderly
handled, and everything was done as you would have wanted it; and he
cut off some of the beautiful hair--and--"

Dyce smothered her sobs in the bedclothes, but Beryl lay like a
stone image.

"Oh, honey! It jest splits my heart in two, to tell you all this--"

"Go on, Dyce."

"The doctor gin me a note to the nuss at the hospital, what 'tended
the ward Miss Ellie was in, and I got all her clothes, and packed
'em in a box and brought 'em home. She told me pretty much what the
doctor had said, only she was shore your ma spoke jest before she
died, and called twice--'Ignace! Ignace!' She said she was beautiful
as a angel and her hair was a wonder to all who saw her, it was so
long and so lovely. She tole me the doctor hissef put a big bunch of
white carnations and tuberoses in her hand, after they put her in
the coffin, and she looked like a queen. The doctor wrote you a
letter 'splainin' everything, and sent it to the postmaster here. He
seemed dreadfull grieved and 'stonished when I tole him how I had
left you, and said if he could help you, he would be very glad to do
it. I tole him we would pay his bill, as soon as this here trial
bizness was over; and he answered: 'Tut--tut; bill indeed! That poor
unfortunate girl need never worry over any bill of mine. I did all I
could for her mother, but the best of us fail sometimes. Tell that
poor child to come and see me, as soon as she gets out of the
clutches of those fire-eating devils down South.' Honey, I couldn't
be satisfied without seeing for myself, where they had laid my dear
young mistiss. I got 'rections from the doctor, and I spent good
part of a day huntin' the cemetery, and at last a man in a uniform
showed me Doctor Grantlin's lot. Oh, my lamb! That was the first and
only comfort I had, when I stood in front of that grand lovely
marble potico--with great angels kneeling on the four corners, and
knew my dear young mistiss was resting in such a beautiful place. I
felt so proud that ole mistiss' chile was among the best people,
sleeping with flowers in her hands, in that white marble house! I
wanted to be shore there warn't no mistake, and the keeper of the
graveyard tole me a lady had been put 'temporary' in the vault, four
days before. I had bought a bunch of violets from a flower shop, but
I could not get nearer than the door, where some brass rods was
stretched like a kind of a net; so I laid my little bunch down on
the marble steps, close as I could push it agin the rod; and though
I couldn't see my dear young mistiss, maybe--up in heaven--she will
know her poor ole mammy did not forgit her, and--"

The old woman cried bitterly, and one thin hand, white as a
snowflake, fell upon her bowed head, and softly stroked her black
wrinkled face. After some minutes, when the paroxysm of weeping had
spent itself, Dyce took the hand, kissed it reverently, and pressed
into it a package.

"The doctor tole me to put that into your hands. He said he knew it
would be very precious to you, but he felt shore he could trust me
to bring it safe. Now, honey, I know you want to be by yourself,
when you read your ma's last words. I will go and set in yonder by
the fire, till you call me. My heart aches and swells fit to bust,
and I can't stan' no more misery jest now, sech as this."

For some moments, Beryl lay motionless, then the intolerable agony
clutched her throat with an aching sense of suffocation, and she sat
up, with nerveless hands lying on the package in her lap. She was
prepared for, expectant of the worst, but the details added keener
stings to suffering that had benumbed her. At last, with a
shuddering sigh, she broke the seal, and took from folds of tissue
paper, a long thick tress of the beautiful black hair. Shaking it
out of its satin coil, she held it up, then wrapped it smoothly over
her hand, and laid it caressingly against her cheek.

Prison walls melted away; she stood again in the New York attic, and
combed, and brushed, and braided those raven locks, and saw the wan
face of the beloved invalid, and the jasmine and violets she had
pinned at her throat.

What had become of the proud, high-spirited ambitious girl, who
laughed at adverse fortune, and forgot poverty in lofty aspirations?
How long ago it seemed, since she kissed the dear faded cheek, and
knelt for her mother's farewell benediction. Was it the same world?
Was she the same Beryl; was the eternal and unchanging God over all,
as of yore? She had shattered and ruined the sparkling crystal
goblet of her young life, scattering in the dust the golden wine of
happy hope, in the effort to serve and comfort that loved sufferer,
who, languishing on a hospital cot, had died among strangers; had
been shrouded by hirelings. That any other hand than hers had
touched her sacred dead, seemed a profanation; and at the thought of
the last rites rendered, the loyal child shivered as though some
polluting grasp had been laid upon herself. Out of the envelope
rolled a broad hoop of reddish gold, her mother's wedding ring; and
in zigzag lines across a sheet of paper was written the last
message:

"My dear, good little girl, so faithful, so true, my legacy of love
is your mother's blessing. You must be comforted to know I am dying
in peace, because I trust in your last promise--"

Then a blot, some unintelligible marks, and a space. Lower still,
scarcely legible characters were scrawled:

"Tell my darling--to wear my ring as a holy--"

In death as in life, the last word, and the deepest feeling were not
for her; the sacred souvenir was left for the hand that had so often
stabbed the idolatrous heart, now stilled forever.

In all ages the ninety and nine that go not astray, never feel the
caressing touch which the yearning Shepherd lays on the obstinate
wanderer, who would not pasture in peace; and from the immemorial
dawn of inchoate civilization, prodigals have possessed the open
sesame to parental hearts that seemed barred against the more
dutiful. By what perverted organon of ethics has it come to pass in
sociology, that the badge of favoritism is rarely the guerdon of
merit?

To the orphaned, forsaken, disgraced captive, sitting amid the
sombre ruins of her life, drinking the bitter lees of the fatal cup
a mother's hand had forced to her reluctant lips, there seemed
nothing strange in the injustice meted out; for had not the second
place in maternal love always been hers? As the great gray eyes
darkening behind their tears, like deep lakes under coming rain,
read and re-read the blurred lines, the frozen mouth trembled, and
Beryl kissed the hair, folded it away in the letter, and pinned both
close to her heart. Staggering to her feet, she held up the ring,
and said in a broken, half audible voice:

"When I am dead, your darling shall have it; until then lend it to
your little girl, as a strengthening amulet. The sight of it will
hold me firm, will girdle my soul with fortitude, as it girdles my
finger; will set a yet holier seal to the compact whereby I pledged
my life, that you might die in peace. If, in the last hour, you had
known all my peril, all that my promise entails, would you have
released me? Would you have died content knowing that your idol was
guarded and safe, behind the cold shield of your little girl's
polluted body? The blood in my veins flowed from yours; I slept on
your heart, I was the last baby whose lips fed at your bosom.
Mother! Mother, if you had known all, could you have seen the load
of guilt and shame and woe laid on your innocent child, and bought
the life of your first-born, by the sacrifice of a scapegoat? Dear
mother, my mother, would you shelter him, and leave your baby to
die?"

Slipping the ring on her finger, she kissed it twice. The hot flood
of tears overflowed, and she fell on her knees beside the cot,
clasping her hands above her bowed head.

"Alone in my desolation! Oh, father! keep close to my soul, and pray
that I may have strength to bear my burden, even to the end. My God!
My God! sustain me now. Help me to be patient, and when the
sacrifice is finished, accept it for Christ's sake, and grant that
the soul of my brother may be ransomed, because I die for his sins."




CHAPTER XIV.


"Well, dear child, what is the trouble? Into what quagmire have your
little feet slipped? When you invite me so solemnly to a private
conference in this distractingly pretty room, the inference is
inevitable that some disaster threatens. Have you overdrawn your
bank account?"

Judge Dent leaned back, making himself thoroughly comfortable in a
deep easy chair in Leo's luxurious library; and taking his niece's
hand, looked up into her grave, sweet face.

"I want you to honor my draft for a large amount. I am about to draw
upon your sympathy; can I ever overdraw my account with that royal
bank?"

"Upon my sympathy, never; but mark you, this does not commit me to
compliance with all your Utopian schemes. If you were raving mad, I
should sympathize, but nevertheless I should see that the strait-
jacket was brought into requisition. When your generosity train
dashes recklessly beyond regulation schedules of safety, I must
discharge engineer sympathy, and whistle down the brakes. What new
hobby do you intend that I shall ride?"

"I have no intention of sharing that privilege even with you; I
merely desire you to inspect the accoutrements, to examine reins,
and girth, and stirrup. I lend my hobby to no one, and it is far too
mettlesome to 'carry double'. Uncle Mitchell, I feel so unhappy
about that poor girl, that I must do something to comfort her, and
only one avenue presents itself. I want you to have her brought into
court on a writ of Habeas Corpus, and to use your influence with
Judge Parkman to grant her bail. I desire to give the amount of bond
he may require, because I think it would gratify her, to have this
public assurance that she possessed the confidence of her own sex;
for nothing so strengthens and soothes a true woman as the sympathy
and trust of women."

"Looking at the case dispassionately from a professional point of
view, I am sorry to tell you that the judge would scarcely be
warranted in granting bail. Were I still upon the bench, I could not
conscientiously release her, in the face of constantly accumulating
evidence against her, although she has my deepest compassion.
Conceding, however, for the moment, that Parkman consents to the
petition and the girl is set at liberty, are you prepared to pay the
large forfeit, if she, realizing the fearful odds against her
acquittal, should take permanent bail by absconding before the
trial? Abstract sympathy and generous sentiments are one phase of
this matter; positively paying a fifteen or a twenty-thousand-
dollar-bond is quite another. Weigh it carefully. We pity this
unfortunate prisoner, but we know absolutely nothing in her favor,
to counterbalance the terrible array of accusing circumstances fate
has piled against her. If she be guilty, can she resist the
temptation to escape by flight; and if indeed she be innocent, how
much more difficult to await all that is involved in this trial, and
abide the issue? Because she is beautiful, has a refined and noble
air, and seems unsullied as some grand snow image, do not blind
yourself to the fact, that for aught we can prove to the contrary,
she may have a heart as black as Tullias', hands as bloody as
Brunehaut's."

"You believe that as little as I do. I have pondered the matter in
all its aspects, and I take the risk."

"You can afford to pay for her flight?"

"I will pay for her flight, no matter what it may cost."

Judge Dent took her hand between both his.

"Let us be frank."

                       "'The things we do--
     We do; we'll wear no mask, as if we blushed!'"

"Are you so assured of the woman's fidelity; or do you deliberately
leave the door ajar, foreseeing the result, deeming this the most
expedient method of cutting the Gordian knot?"

For a moment she hesitated, then her soft brown eyes looked down
bravely into his.

"I believe she is innocent, and that she will be loyal if released
on bail; but if I mistake her character, and she should flee for her
life from the lifted sword of justice, then I shall gladly pay the
expense of playing Alexander's role; and shall feel rejoiced that
she lives to repent her crime; and that the man to whom I have
promised my hand, has been relieved of the awful responsibility of
hunting her to death."

"Have you made him acquainted with this scheme?"

"Certainly not. I owed it to you to secure your approbation and co-
operation, before mentioning the matter to him."

"Have you considered the opposition which, without inconsistency, he
cannot fail to offer? As prosecuting attorney for the Darringtons he
would be recreant to his client, if he consented to release on
bail."

"His sympathy is deeply enlisted in her behalf, and I do not
anticipate opposition; nevertheless, it would not deter me from the
attempt to free her, at least temporarily from prison. As you have
no connection with the trial, I can see no impropriety in your
telling Judge Parkman, that the girl's health demands a change of
air and scene, and that it is my desire to furnish any bond he may
deem suitable, and then bring the prisoner under my own roof, until
the day fixed for her trial. If you are unwilling to speak to him,
will you permit me to mention the subject to him?"

"I fear enthusiasm is hurrying you into a proposal, the possibly
grave consequences of which you do not realize. You would run a
great risk in bringing here that unfortunate woman, over whose head
has gathered so black a cloud of suspicion. In becoming her gaoler,
you assume a fearful responsibility."

"I fully comprehend all the hazard, and with your permission, I
shall not shrink. I have a conviction, for which I can offer no
adequate grounds, that this girl is as innocent as I am; and if all
the world hissed and jeered, I should stretch out my hand to her. Do
you recollect Ortes' booty when Antwerp fell into Alva's hands? The
keys of the dungeons. I would rather swing wide the barred doors of
yonder human cage across the river, and lead that woman out under
God's free sky, than wear all of Alva's jewels, own his gold. Uncle,
will you speak, or shall I?"

"I must first talk with Churchill and Dunbar. Your effort might
result only in injury to the prisoner; because if she were brought
into Court on writ of Habeas Corpus, and refused bail, as I fear
would be the case, the failure would operate very unfavorably for
her cause, on public opinion, of which after all, in nineteen cases
out of twenty, the jury verdict is a reflection. Some new evidence
has been presented since the preliminary examination, and its
character will determine the question of bail. If I can see any
chance of your success I will speak to Parkman; for, indeed, my dear
child, I honor your motive, and share your hope; but unless I find
more encouragement than I expect, I will not complicate matters by a
futile attempt, which would certainly recoil disastrously."

"Thank you, Uncle Mitchell. Please act promptly. I have set my heart
of hearts on having that poor young woman here to spend Christmas.
Her freedom to walk about in the sunshine, is the one Christmas gift
I covet; and I know you will gratify me if possible. You have only
four days in which to secure my present."

"When do you expect to see Dunbar?"

"I promised to ride with him this afternoon; but I prefer not to
discuss this subject, as he has earnestly requested me 'to abstain
from any reference to that gloomy business during his hours of
recreation;' and I have no intention of setting black care en croupe
to share our canter to-day. Having told me that when he leaves his
office to visit us, he locks his professional affairs in his desk,
you can readily understand that good taste enforces respect for his
wishes, at least in the matter of avoiding tabooed topics."

"Does it occur to you that he will object very strenuously to seeing
the personification of 'that gloomy business' sitting at your
hearth-stone? That he may refuse to lock up in his law office the
significant and disagreeable reflection, that the woman whom he
arrested find prosecutes for a vile crime, is championed and housed
by one whom he claims as his promised wife? Dunbar has a keen eye
for the 'eternal fitness of things,' and, where you are concerned,
is a jealous stickler for social convenance. I warn you he will be
bitterly offended, if you bring General Darrington's granddaughter
under this roof."

Her delicate flower-like face flushed; and the slight figure became
proudly erect.

"It is my house, and I acquit him of the presumption of desiring to
dictate to whom its doors shall be opened. If he has no confidence
in my discretion, no respect for my motives, no tolerance for
difference of opinion in a matter of vital importance, then the
sooner our engagement is annulled the better for both of us. When I
have taken my vows, I hope I shall steadfastly keep them, but
meantime I am still a Gordon. The irrevocable ubi tu Caius, ego
Caia, has not yet been uttered, and while it would grieve me very
much to wound his feelings, I claim the exercise of my own judgment.
I am not indifferent to his wishes; on the contrary, I ardently
desire, as far as is consistent with my self-respect, to defer to
them; but when I pledged him my faith, I did not surrender my will,
nor obliterate my individuality."

Judge Dent rose, put his arm around her shoulders, and drew the
sunny head to his breast.

"Leo, listen to me. There is no heaven on earth, but the nearest
approach to it, the outlying suburbs whence we get bewildering
glimpses of beatitude beyond, is the season of courtship and
betrothal. In the magical days of sweetheartdom, a silvery
glorifying glamour wraps the world, brims jagged black chasms with
glittering mist, paves rugged paths with its shimmering folds, and
tenderly covers very deep in rose leaves, the clay feet of our
idols. That wonderful light shines only once full upon us, but the
memory of it streams all along the succeeding journey; follows us up
the arid heights, throws its mellow afterglow on the darkening road,
as we go swiftly down the slippery hill of life. It comes to all, as
hope's happy prophecy, this sparkling prologue, and we never dream
that it is the sweetest and best of the drama that follows; but let
me tell you, enjoy it while you may. Beautiful, hallowing sweetheart
days, keep them unclouded, guard them from strife; hold them for the
precious enchantment they bring, and take an old man's advice, do
not quarrel with your sweetheart."

He kissed her cheek, and when the door closed behind him, she sat
down and covered her face with her hands.

Was that witching light already fading in her sky? Was the storm
even now muttering, that would rudely toss aside the rose leaves
that garlanded the feet of her beloved? In the midst of her eloquent
prologue would darkness smite suddenly, and end the drama? Life had
poured its richest wine into the cup she held to her lips; should
she risk spilling the priceless draught? She could turn a deaf ear
to teazing whispers of suspicion, she could shut her eyes to the
spectre that threw up warning hands, and so drift on; but the dream
would be broken perhaps too late, and all time could not repair the
possible shipwreck. Into the chill shadow of this problem plunged
Miss Patty, bringing through the room the penetrating spicery of an
apron full of pinks, which she was sorting and tying in star-shaped
clusters.

"An extraordinary and most unexpected thing has happened, and I know
you will be surprised."

"What is it, Aunt Patty? Something very pleasant, I hope."

"I have actually changed my opinion; and you know how tenacious I
usually am of my well-matured views, because they are always founded
on such sound reasons. Quite surprised, aren't you, dear?"

"That is far too mild and inadequate a term to express my
sensations. Your views and opinions bear the same royal, inviolable
seal as those of the Medes and Persians, and from their
unchangeableness must have floated down the stream of Aryan
migration, from some infallible fountain in Bactria. I should not be
much more astonished to hear that Cynosure had grown giddy, had
swung down and waltzed in the arms of Sirius."

"Leo, that sounds very pedantic, and there is nothing I dislike
more. A woman bedecked with rags and tags of farfetched learning, is
about as attractive an object as if she had turned out a full beard
and mustache. I am very sure you have heard me assert more than
once, that I verily believe Venus herself would scare all the men
into monasteries, if she wore blue stockings. Too much learning in a
lady's conversation is as utterly unpardonable as a waste of lemon
and nutmeg in a chicken-pie; or a superfluity of cheese in Turbot a
la creme; just a hint of the flavor, the merest soupcon is all that
is admissible in either. I came in to tell you, that I have
experienced quite a change of feeling with reference to that poor
young lady, whom Mr. Dunbar with such officious haste arrested and
threw into gaol. I am now convinced that a great wrong has been
committed."

For a moment Leo stooped to stroke the head of her Siberian hound,
crouching on the velvet rug at her feet; then she frankly met the
twinkling black eyes that peered over their gold-rimmed spectacles.

"I am glad to hear it; but to what circumstance is so deckled a
revulsion of sentiment attributable?"

"You know I have great confidence in Sister Serena's sagacity, and
during the past fortnight she has talked frequently with me on the
subject of the prisoner. When she undertook to nurse the poor child,
she too considered her guilty of the unnatural crime; but by degrees
she began to doubt it. About ten days ago, she says she went to the
penitentiary, and found the prisoner reading a Bible which she had
borrowed from the gaoler's wife. She asked her if she would like her
to offer up a prayer, in her behalf, and they knelt down side by
side. Sister Serena prayed that God would melt her heart if she was
guilty, and help her to repent. While they were still on their
knees, Sister Serena put one arm around her and said:

"'God knows whether you are the criminal; and if so, let me beg of
you to make a full confession; it will unload your conscience, and
may be the means of arousing more sympathy in the public heart.' She
says that the poor girl looked at her a moment so reproachfully, and
answered: 'When we meet in heaven, you will understand how cruelly
your words hurt me. I know that appearances are hopelessly against
me, and I expect to die; but I am so innocent, I keep my soul close
to God, for He who knows the truth, will help me to bear man's
injustice.' Then she prayed aloud for herself, that she might endure
patiently and meekly an awful punishment which she did not deserve;
and while she prayed, her countenance was so pure, so angelic, and
there was such unmistakable fervor and sincerity in her petition,
that Sister Serena says she could not help bursting into tears, and
she actually begged the girl's pardon for having doubted her
innocence. She has fallen completely in love with the poor young
creature, and tells me she finds her wonderfully talented and
cultivated. This morning she showed me some of the most beautiful
designs for decorating our altar on Christmas, which the prisoner
sketched for her. She cut all the models for her, and gave her such
lovely suggestions, and when Sister Serena thanked her, she says the
most touching smile she ever saw came into that child's face, as she
answered: 'I ought to thank you for the privilege of decorating my
Savior's altar, at the last Christmas I shall spend on earth. Next
year, I shall spend Jesus' birthday with Him.' I felt so
uncomfortable when I heard all that passed between her and Sister
Serena, that I could not be easy until I had seen for myself; and as
Sister Serena was going over to carry some letters to be painted and
gilded, I went with her. I have seen her, and talked with her, and I
pity the hard, bitter, unregenerate and vindictive heart of the man
who is prosecuting her for murder. I do not believe that in all the
world, Mr. Dunbar can find twelve men idiotic and vicious enough to
convict that beautiful orphan girl; and his failure will do as
little credit to his intellect, as success would to his moral
nature."

"While I prefer to exclude Mr. Dunbar's name from our discussions, I
think it merely bare justice to the absent, to assure you that he
desires her conviction even less than you or I; and will do all in
his power to avert it. I feel more interest in this matter than you
can possibly realize, and, believing her innocent, I will befriend
her to the last extremity. Did Sister Serena succeed in fitting the
black dress I sent?"

"The poor child had on a mourning dress, but I was not aware you
sent it. Losing her mother seems almost to have broken her heart.
Poor Ellice Darrington! Petted and fostered like a hot-house flower,
and then to die a pauper in a hospital! What an awful retribution
for her disobedience to her parents? There is the bell."

"Yes, Auntie, and I must ask you to excuse me. Some of my Sunday-
school class are coming to practise their carols, and conclude a
little holiday preparation, and I hear them now on the steps."

"Did Mitchell show you Leighton's telegram?"

"He told me the good news, that at the last moment Leighton had
filled his pulpit for the holidays, and would preach for us on
Christmas. How delightfully it will revive the dear old days to have
him back? Fancy our hanging up our stockings once more at the foot
of Uncle Mitchell's bed! Your letter must have been eloquent,
indeed, to entice him from the splendors of the metropolis, to the
yule log at our quiet 'Lilacs'; and his coming is a tribute of
gratitude to you, for all your loving care of him. I know you are so
happy at the thought of taking the Holy Communion from the hand of
your dear boy, that it will consecrate this Christmas above all
others; and I congratulate you heartily, dear Aunt Patty."

It was late in the afternoon of Saturday, Christmas Eve, when Leo
knocked at the door of Mrs. Singleton's room. A dispirited
expression characterized the countenance usually serene and happy,
and between her brows a perpendicular line marked the advent of
anxious foreboding. Her hopeful scheme had dissolved, vanished like
a puff of steam on icy air, leaving only a teazing memory of mocking
failure. Judge Dent's conference with the District Solicitor, had
convinced him of the futility of any attempt to secure bail;
moreover, a message from the prisoner earnestly exhorted them to
abandon all intercessory designs in her behalf, as she would not
accept release on bail, and preferred to await her trial.

"Good evening, Miss Gordon. If you want to see her, Ned will show
you the way to the chapel, where I left her a while ago. Since her
mother's death, the only comfort she gets, is from the organ; so we
let her go there very often. I would go with you, but I want to
finish a black shawl I am crocheting for her."

The warden escorted his visitor through the chill dim corridors that
had formerly so appalled Beryl's soul, and upon the steps of the
chapel, both paused to listen. On the small cabinet organ, a skilful
hand was playing a grand and solemn aria, which Leo had heard once
before in the cool depths of Freiburg Cathedral. It had impressed
her then most powerfully, as the despairing invocation of some
doomed Titan; to-day it thrilled her with keen and intolerable pain.
Waving the warden back, she softly entered the chapel, closed the
door, and sat down.

Through the narrow windows, the afternoon sunlight, fettered by
shadowy bars, fell on the bare floor, and the radiance smote the
organ and the wan face of the musician, gilding the dark reddish-
brown hair coiled loosely on her nobly poised head. Her black dress
enhanced the extreme pallor of delicate features, which, outlined
against that golden background, bore a strong resemblance to the
lovely portrait of Titian's wife in the Louvre. Unmindful of the
keys, across which her fingers strayed, she was gazing off into
space, as if seeking some friendly face; and to the same sombre,
passionate, plaintive melody she sang:

    "The way is dark, my Father! Cloud upon cloud
     Is gathering thickly o'er my head, and loud
     The thunders roar above me. O, see--I stand
     Like one bewildered! Father, take my hand--
     And through the gloom lead safely home Thy Child!
     The day declines, my Father! and the night
     Is drawing darkly down. My faithless sight
     Sees ghostly visions. Fears like a spectral band
     Encompass me. O, Father, take my hand,
     And from the night lead up to light Thy Child!
     The cross is heavy, Father! I have borne
     It long, and still do bear it. I cannot stand
     Or go alone. O, Father, take my hand,
     And reaching down, lead to the crown Thy Child!"

The voice was wonderfully sweet and rich, vibrating with the intense
pathos of minor chords in a mellow old violoncello, and either from
physical weakness, or the weight of woe, it quivered at last into a
thrilling cry. Tears were dripping over Leo's cheeks, as she went up
to the chancel railing, and leaning across, put out her hand. Beryl
rose and came forward, and so, with only the pine balustrade
between, the two stood palm in palm. No moisture dimmed the
prisoner's eyes, but around her beautiful mouth sorrowful curves
betokened the fierceness of the ordeal she was enduring; and her
lips trembled a little, like rose leaves under a sudden rude gust.

"I have wanted very much to see you, Miss Gordon, to thank you for
the great kindness that prompted your effort to help me; and yet, I
have no hope of expressing adequately the comfort I derived from
this manifestation of your confidence. The knowledge that you
offered security for me, above all, that you were willing to take
me--an outcast, almost a convicted criminal--into the holy shelter
of your own home, oh! you can never realize, unless you stood in my
place, how it soothes my heart, how it will always make a bright
spot in the blackness of my situation. The full sympathy of a noble
woman is the best tonic for a feeble sufferer, who knows the world
has turned its back upon her. If I were unworthy, your goodness
would be the keenest lash that could scourge me; but forlorn though
I seem, your friendship brings me measureless balm, and while I
could never have accepted your generous offer, I thank you
sincerely."

"Why were you so unwilling that I should try to release you?"

"I have not a dollar to pay my expenses anywhere, and I appreciated
too fully all that was involved in your hospitable offer, to take me
under your roof, to be willing to avail myself of it. Here I am
provided for, by those who believe me guilty; and here I have the
kind sympathy of Mr. and Mrs. Singleton, who were my first friends
when the storm broke over my doomed head. To go out of prison into
the world now, would be torturing, because I am proud and sensitive;
and these dark walls screen me from the curious observation from
which I shrink, as from being flayed. To the desolate and homeless,
change of place brings no relief; and since there is no escape for
me, I prefer to wait here for the end, which, after all, cannot be
very distant."

"Do you refer to the trial next month?"

"No, to that which yawns behind the trial; a shallow gash out there
under the pines, where the sound of the penitentiary bell tolls
requiems for the souls of its mangled victims."

"Hush! hush! You wrong yourself by imagining the possibility of such
horrible results. Gloomy surroundings, coupled with your great
bereavement, render you morbidly despondent; and it was the hope of
cheering you, that made me so anxious to get you away. If I could
only take you home, even for one week!"

"The wish has cheered me inexpressibly. How good, how noble, how
tender you are! Miss Gordon, because I am so grateful, let me now
say one thing. You cannot help me in future, and it would grieve me
to think that I fell, as an unlifting shadow, between your heart and
the sunshine that warms it. In the night of my wretchedness, you
have groped your way to me, and in defiance of the circumstances
that are so cruelly leagued to strangle me, you throw your
confidence like a warm mantle around my shivering soul; you have
courageously laid your pure, womanly hands in mine--oh, God bless
you! God reward you! Do you think I could bear to know that I had
caused even a hand's breadth of cloud to drift over the heavenly
blue of your happy sky? The bow of promise that spans your life is
no secret. Let no thought of me jar the harmony that reigned before
I came here. Leave me to my doom, which human hands cannot avert
now; and be happy without questioning. Inexorable fate stands behind
men; makes them, sometimes, irresponsible puppets."

A deep flush had risen to Leo's temples, and withdrawing her hand,
she shaded her face for a moment. The great bell below the tower
clock rang sullenly.

"Good-bye, Miss Gordon. I had permission to stay here only till the
bell sounded. Pray for me, but do not come again. Visits to me could
bring you nothing but sorrow in return for your compassion, and that
would add to my misery. I wish you a pleasant Christmas, a happy New
Year, and as cloudless a life as your great goodness deserves."

Once more their hands met, in a long close clasp, then Leo laid on
the chancel railing a large square envelope.

"It is only a Christmas card, but so lovely, I know your artistic
taste cannot fail to admire it; and it may brighten your cheerless
room. It is the three-hundred-dollar-prize-card, and particularly
beautiful."

"Thank you, dear Miss Gordon. It may help to deaden the merciless
stings of memory, which all day long has tortured me by unrolling
the past, where my Christmas days stand out like illuminated
capitals on black-letter pages."

Deaden the stings of memory? What spell suddenly evoked the image of
her invalid mother, all the details of the attic room, the litter of
pencils on the table; the windows of a florist's shop where,
standing on the pavement, she had studied hungrily the shapes of the
blossoms poverty denied her as models; the interior of the Creche,
which she had penetrated in order to sketch the heads of sleeping
babies, as a study for cherubs?

Leo had almost reached the door, when a passionate, indescribably
mournful cry arrested her steps.

"Too late!--too late! O, God! What a cruel mockery!"

Beryl stood leaning against the railing of the altar, with the light
of the setting sun falling aslant on the gilded card she held up in
one hand; on her white convulsed face, where tears fell in a
scalding flood. Retracing her steps, Leo said falteringly:

"In my efforts to comfort you, have I only wounded more sorely? How
have I hurt you? What can I do?"

"No--no! you are an angel of pity, hovering over an abyss of ruin,
whose darkest horrors you only imagine faintly. What can you do?
Nothing, but pray to God to paralyze my tongue, and grant me death,
before I lose my last clutch on faith, and curse my Creator, and
drift down to eternal perdition! It was hard enough before, but this
mockery maddens."

With a sudden abandonment, she hurled the card away, threw her arms
around Leo's neck and sobbed unrestrainedly. Tenderly the latter
held her shivering form, as the proud head fell on her shoulder; and
after a time, Beryl lifted a face white as an annunciation lily,
drenched by tropical rain.

"I thought misfortune had emptied all her vials, and that I was
nerved, because there was nothing more to dread. But the worst is
always behind, and this is the irony of fate. You think that merely
a rhetorical metaphor, a tragic trope? How should you know? That
Christmas card is the solitary dove I sent out to hunt a resting-
place for mother and for me, when the flood engulfed us. It was my
design sent to Boston, to compete for the prizes offered. How I
dreamed, how I toiled! Haunting the flower shops for a glimpse of
heartsease, and passion flowers, and stars of Bethlehem; begging a
butcher at the abattoir to spare a lamb, until I could sketch it;
kneeling by cradles in the public Creche to get the full red curve
of a baby's sucking lips, as they forsook the bottle, the dimple in
the tiny hands, the tendrils of hair on the satin brow! Over that
card I sang, and I wept; I worked, hoped, prayed, believed! So much
depended upon it! Could the Christ to whom I dedicated it, fail to
answer my prayer for success? Three hundred dollars! What a mint! It
would pay the doctor, and make mother comfortable, and get her a
warm new suit for coming winter. Oh! it is so easy to believe in
God, until He denies us; and to trust Christ, till He hurls our
prayers back, and the stones crush us. Only three hundred dollars
between life and death; between a happy, proud girl with a noble
future, and a disgraced, broken-hearted wreck trampled into a
convict's grave! It would have saved all; all the awful consequences
of the journey here, which only dire extremity of need forced upon
me. On the fatal day I started South, I went at the last moment,
hoping that some tidings from my card would come on angel wings. The
decision had been made, but the awards were not yet published, and
so my doom was sealed. To-morrow, happy women, no more innocent than
I am, will smile at my Christmas card, and give it with warm kisses
and loving words to their dear ones; and to-day, my white dove of
hope, flies back in my face, with the talons of a harpy, to devour
me with maddening reminders of 'what might have been'. My coveted
three hundred dollars! Three hundred taunting fiends! to jeer and
torment me. The Christmas sun will shine on a pauper's empty cot in
a charity hospital; on a disgraced, insulted, forsaken convict. Take
away this last mockery, it is more than I can bear. There on the
back in gilt letters--Prize Card--Three Hundred Dollars! Yet a
stranger paid for my mother's coffin, and--. Three hundred furies to
lash my heart out! Too late! Take it away! too late! oh, too late!
This is worse than the pangs of death."




CHAPTER XV.


The Christmas Sabbath dawned cold and dim, and along the eastern sky
gray marbled masses of cloud with dun, stratified bases, built
themselves into the likeness of vast teocallis to Tonatiuh, over
whose apex the struggling rays fell red and presageful. Dulled by
the stained glass windows, the light that filled the semi-circular
chapel at "The Lilacs", was chill and sombre, until the fair
sacristan held a taper over the tall wax candles on each side of the
altar, whence a mellow radiance soon streamed over all; flashing
along the golden letters under the cross, and upon the gilded pipes
of the little organ. On the marble steps in front of the altar were
two baskets filled with white camellias, and great spikes of pink
and blue hyacinths, that seemed to break their hearts in waves of
aromatic incense. The family Bible of the Gordons lay open, on the
reading desk, and upon its yellow pages rested a Maltese cross of
snowy Roman hyacinths. Looping back the purple velvet portiere over
the arch leading into the library, Leo sat down on the organ bench
to await the coming of the family, leisurely arranged the stops, and
marked in her prayer-book the Collect for Christmas. In her morning
robe of crimson cashmere, with its cascade of soft rich lace foaming
from throat to feet, and wearing a dainty cluster of double white
violets fastened just below one ear, where the wax light kissed her
sunny hair, she appeared a St. Cecilia, very fair and sweet, to the
eyes of the man who stood a moment unperceived beneath the arch. A
figure of medium height, clad in priestly garments, with a white
surplice sweeping to the marble floor; a finely modelled head
thickly fleeced with light brown hair, a serene pleasant face, with
regular features, deep-set black eyes magnified by spectacles, and
an expression of habitual placidity, that bespoke a soul consecrated
by noble aims, and at perfect peace with his God.

Hearing his step as he crossed the floor, Leo looked over her
shoulder, smiled, and began to play softly, while he ascended the
steps and knelt before the altar. After some moments Miss Patty
rustled in, sank on her knees and finally settled herself
comfortably on one of the crescent-shaped, cushioned sofas; then
Judge Dent entered, followed by Justine and the aged negro butler,
Joel, the two servants finding seats just behind their master.
Doctor Leighton Douglass selected his hymns, and the leaves of five
prayer-books fluttered, as Collects were found, but Leo continued to
play.

Twice she turned and looked around the chapel, seeking some one,
delaying the commencement of the service. Finally accepting defeat,
her pretty fingers fell from the keys, and with them dropped two
tears, forced from her by the keen disappointment that robbed this
occasion of all its anticipated pleasure. Singularly free from
fashionable elocutionary affectations, and certain declamatory stage
tricks, by which the recitation of the Creed and the Lord's Prayer
becomes a competitive test of lungs in the race for breath, Leighton
Douglass read the morning service, in a well-modulated voice, and
with a profound solemnity that left its impress on each heart. The
responses were fervent, and the Christmas hymns were sung with
joyful earnestness; then priestly arms rose like the wings of a
great snowy dove, and from holy, priestly lips fell the mellow music
of the benediction:

"The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the
fellowship of the Holy Ghost, be with us all evermore. Amen."

Even while he pronounced the words, a whirring rustle filled the
beautiful oratory, and two of Leo's pet ring-doves, fluttering round
and round the frescoed ceiling, descended swiftly. One perched upon
her head, cooing softly, and its mate nestled down with outspread
pinions, pecking at the white muslin folds on Doctor Douglass'
shoulder.

"Paracletes, dun plumed! Leo, let us accept them as happy auguries,
prophetic of divine blessing on our future work in the Master's
vineyard. My cousin, I wish you a very happy Christmas."

He had approached the organ where she sat, and held out his hand.

"Happy Christmas, Leighton, and many thanks to you for this
consecrating service in my place of prayer. After today, it will
always seem a more hallowed shrine, and before you leave us, we will
gather here as a family, and join in the celebration of the Holy
Communion."

They stood a moment hand in hand, looking into each other's eyes;
and watching them, Miss Patty's heart swelled with pardonable pride
in the two, whom her loving arms had so tenderly cradled. Pinching
her brother's hand, as she walked with him under the velvet
draperies, she whispered:

"What a noble match for both! And he's only her second cousin."

Leo's eyes were wet with tears, which Doctor Douglass ascribed to
devotional fervor; and withdrawing her hand, she opened one of the
windows, and called the doves to the stone ledge, putting them very
gently out upon the ivy wreaths that clambered up the wall, and
peeped into the chapel.

"I believe you are sacristan here?" he said, pointing to the candles
that flared, as the wind rushed in,

"Yes, here I sweep, dust, decorate daily, allowing no other touch;
and here I bring my daintiest, rarest flowers, as tribute to Him who
tapestried the earth with blossoms, and sprinkled it with perfumes--
when? Not until just before the advent of humanity, whose material
kingdom was perfected, and furnished in anticipation of his
arrival."

Extinguishing the candles, she closed the old Bible, covered it with
a square of velvet, and hung the cross of hyacinths upon the folded
hands of one of the marble angels that upheld the altar,

"Pure-handed women are natural priestesses, meet for temple
ministration; and I have no doubt your exoteric labors here, merely
typify the secret daily sweeping out of evil thoughts, the dusting
away of motes of selfishness, the decorating with noble beautiful
aims, and holy deeds, whereby you sanctify that inner shrine, your
own soul."

"Praise from you means so much, that you need not stoop to flatter
me. The very vestments of you Levites should exhale infectious
humility; and I especially need exhortations against pride, my
besetting sin. I built this chapel, not because I am good, but in
order to grow better. Every dwelling has its room in which the
inmates gather to eat, to study, to work, to sleep; why not to pray,
the most important privilege of many that divide humanity from
brutes? After all, the pagans were wiser than we, and the heads of
families were household priests, setting examples of piety at every
rising of the sun."

"Let us see. Greek and Roman fathers laid a cake dripping with wine,
a wreath of violets, a heart of honey-comb, a brace of doves on the
home altar, and immediately thereafter, set the example of violating
every clause in the Decalogue. Mark you, paganism drew fine lines in
morals, long anterior to the era of monotheism and of Moses, and
furnished immortal types of all the virtues; yet the excess of its
religious ceremonial, robbed it of vital fructifying energies. The
frequency and publicity of sacerdotal service, usurped the place of
daily individual piety. The tendency of all outward symbolical
observances, unduly multiplied, is to substitute mere formalism for
fervor."

"Leighton, humanity craves the concrete. All the universe is God's
temple, yet the chill breath of the abstract freezes our hearts; and
we pray best in some pillared niche consecrated and set apart, I
recall a day in Umbria, when the wonderful light of sunset fell on
ilex and olive, on mountain snows, on valleys billowing between
vine-mantled hills, on creamy marble walls, on columned campaniles;
and standing there, I seemed verily to absorb, to become saturated
as it were, with the reigning essence of beauty. I walked on, a few
steps, lifted a worn, frayed leather curtain, and looked into a
small gray, dingy church, where a mist of incense blurred the lights
on the ancient altar, and the muffled roll of an organ broke into
sonorous waves, like reverberations of far-away thunder; and why was
it, tell me, that the universal glory thrilled me only as a sensuous
chord of color, but in the dark corner consecrated to the worship of
our God, my soul expanded, as if a holy finger touched it, and I
fell on my knees, and prayed? Each of us comes into this world
dowered with the behest to make desperate war against that
indissoluble 'Triple Alliance, the World, the Flesh and the Devil,'
and needing all the auxiliaries possible, I resort to conscription
wherever I can recruit. Since I am two thousand years too young to
set up a statue of Hestia yonder in my imitation prostas, I have
built instead this small sacred nook for prayer, which helps me
spiritually, much as the Ulah aids Islam."

"Your oratory is lovely, and I wish its counterpart adorned every
homestead in our land; but are you quite sure that in your
individual experience you are not mistaking effect for cause? Your
holy heart demands fit shrine for--"

"I am quite sure I will not allow you to stand a moment longer on
this cold floor; and I do not intend that you shall pay me
undeserved compliments. It is derogatory to your dignity, and
dangerous to my modicum of humility. As soon as you are ready for
breakfast, come to the dining-room, where Santa Klaus left his
remembrances last night. O, Leighton! I had half a mind to hang up
two stockings at uncle's bed, for the sake of dear old lang syne. If
we could only shut our eyes, and drift back to the magical time of
aprons, short clothes, and roundabouts, when a sugar rooster with
green wings and pink head, and a doll that could open and shut her
eyes, were considered more precious than Tiffany's jewels, or
Collamore's Crown Derby! Can Delmonico offer you a repast half as
appetizing as the hominy, the tea cakes, the honey and the sweet
milk which you and I used to enjoy at our supper just at sunset, at
our own little table set under the red mulberry trees in the back
yard?"

"Why should my cousin, whose present is so rose-colored, whose
future so blissful, turn to rake amid the ashes of the past?"

"Because, like Lot's wife, we are all prone to stare backward. Who
lives in the present? Do you? When we are young we pant for the
future, that pitches painted tents before us. When we are older, we
live in the past, that wraps itself in a sacred gilding glamour, and
is vocal with the happy echoes which alone survive. Far-off fields
before and behind us are so dewy, so vividly green; and the present
is gray and stony, and barren of charm, and we turn fretfully. It is
part of the grim tyranny of Time that it is tideless; that the
stream bears remorselessly on, and on, never back to the dear old
spots; always on, to lose itself in the eternal and unknown. So, to-
day's Christmas lacks the zest of its predecessors."

Leo loosened the gilded chain that looped the curtains, and as the
purple folds fell behind her, hiding the arch, Doctor Douglass said
gently:

"There is a solemn truth and wise admonition in one of Rabbi Tyra's
dicta: 'Thy yesterday is thy past; thy to-day is thy future; thy to-
morrow is a secret.'"

"Leo, here is a package and a note which arrived during service, and
as Mr. Dunbar's servant said there was no answer expected, he did
not wait."

As Miss Patty delivered the parcel to her niece, the minister walked
away to lay aside his vestments, but he noted the sudden hardening
of his cousin's face, the flush of displeasure, the haughty curl of
her lips; and on his ears fell his aunt's voice:

"You expected and waited for him at morning prayer?"

"I invited him to join us, if he felt disposed to do so."

"What possible excuse can he offer for such negligence, when he knew
that Leighton would read the service?"

An uwonted sparkle leaped into Leo's mild hazel eyes, and without
examination she handed the package and note to Justine.

"Lay them in the drawer of my writing-desk, and then call all the
servants into the dining-room. Auntie, tardy excuses must wait
longer for an audience than we waited for the writer. Come to
breakfast; uncle will be impatient, and I want to enjoy his surprise
when he sees his Santa Klaus."

She was sorely disappointed, deeply affronted by Mr. Dunbar's
failure to present himself on an occasion at which she had
especially desired his presence; and as she recalled the
affectionate phraseology of her note of invitation, her fair cheek
burned with an intolerable sense of humiliation. Was it partition,
or total loss, of her precious kingdom? In after years, she
designated this Christmas as the era when the "sceptre departed from
Judah;" but putting away the chagrin, and sealing the well of
bitterness in her heart, she exchanged holiday greetings, and
proudly wore her royal robes throughout the day, holding sternly off
the spectre, which grimly bided its time--the hour of her
abdication.

Through the benevolent and compassionate efforts of Mr. and Mrs.
Singleton, some faint reflection of the outside world festivities
penetrated the dismal monotony of prison routine; and the hearts of
the inmates were softened and gladdened by kind tokens of
remembrance, that carried the thoughts of bearded convicts back to
Christmas carols in innocent youth, and to the mother's knees where
prayers were lisped.

Illness had secured to Beryl immunity from contact with her comrades
in misery, and except to visit the little chapel, she never left the
sheltering walls of her small comfortless room, grateful for the
unexpected boon of silent seclusion. Her Christmas greeting had been
little Dick's sweet lips kissing her cheek, as he deposited upon her
narrow bed the black and white shawl his mother had knitted, and a
box left by Miss Gordon on the previous day, which contained half a
dozen pretty handkerchiefs with mourning borders, some delicate
perfume and soaps, toilet brushes and a sachet.

An hour later, when Mrs. Singleton and her babies had gone to spend
the day with relatives in the city, Beryl went to the window, pushed
the sash up, and listened to the ringing of the Sabbath-school
bells, as every church beyond the river called its nursery to the
altar, to celebrate the day. The metallic clangor was mellowed by
distance, rising and falling like rhythmic waves, and the faint
echo, filtered through dense pine forests behind the penitentiary,
had the ghostly iteration of the Folge Fond.

A gaunt yellow kitten, with a faded red ribbon knotted about its
neck, and vicious, amber-colored eyes that were a perpetual
challenge, had fled from the tender mercies of Dick to the city of
refuge under Beryl's cot; and community of suffering had kindled an
attachment that now prompted the lesser waif to spring into the
girl's folded arms, and rub its head against her shoulder.
Mechanically Beryl's hand stroked the creature's ear, while it
purred softly under the caress; but suddenly its back curved into an
arch, the tail broadened, the purr became a growl. Had association
lifted the brute's instincts to the plane of human antipathies?

The warden had opened the door and quickly closed it, after ushering
in a tall figure, who wore an overcoat which was buttoned from
throat to knees. At sight of Mr. Dunbar, the cat plunged to the
floor, and sped away to the darkest corner under the iron bedstead.

"Good morning. I dare not utter here the greetings of the day,
because you would construe it into a heartless mockery."

He came forward hesitatingly, and she turned swiftly away, pressing
her face against the bars of the window, waving him back.

"Why will you persist in regarding as an enemy, the one person in
all the world who is most anxious to befriend you?"

Still no answer; only the repellent gesture warning him away.

"Will you allow me, this Christmas morning, to comfort myself in
some degree, by leaving here a few flowers to brighten your desolate
surroundings?"

He held out a bouquet of rare and brilliant hothouse blossoms, whose
delicious fragrance had already pervaded the room. They stood side
by side, yet she shrank farther, and kept her face averted,
shivering perceptibly. Lifting one arm he drew down the sash to shut
out the freezing air.

"You are resolved neither to look at nor speak to me? So be it. At
least you must listen to me. You may not care to hear that I have
been absent, but perhaps it will interest you to know that I went in
search of the man for whose crime you are paying the penalty."

If he expected her to wince under the probe, her nerves were taut,
and she defied the steel; but the face she now turned fully to him
was so blanched by illness, so hopeless in its rigid calm, that he
felt a keen pain at his own heart.

"Prisoners, victims of justice, have, it seems, no privileges; else
my one request, my earnest prayer to be shielded from your presence,
might have protected me from this intrusion. Are you akin to
Parrhasius that you come to gloat over the agonies of a moral and
mental vivisection? The sight of suffering to which you have brought
a helpless woman, is scarcely the recompense I was taught to suppose
agreeable to a chivalrous Southern gentleman. If, wearing the red
livery of Justice, undue zeal for vengeance betrayed you into the
fatal mistake of trampling me into this horrible place, there might
be palliation; but for the brutal persistency with which you thrust
your tormenting presence upon me, not even heavenly charity could
possibly find pardon. Literally you are heaping insult upon awful
injury. Is it a refinement of cruelty that brings you here to watch
and analyze my suffering, as a biologist looks through lenses at an
insect he empales, or Pasteur scrutinizes the mortal throes of the
victims into whose veins he has injected poison?"

If she had drawn a lash across his face, it would not have stung
more keenly than her words, so expressive of detestation.

"Will you consider for a moment the possibility that other motives
actuate me; that ceaseless regret, remorse, if you choose, for a
terrible mistake, impels me to come here in the hope of making
reparation?"

"Such a supposition is as inconceivable as the idea of reparation.
When a reaper goes forth to his ripe harvest, his lawful labor, and
wantonly turns aside into a by-path, to try the edge of his sickle
on an humble, unoffending stalk that fights for life among the grass
and weeds, and struggles to get its head sufficiently in the
sunshine to bloom--when he cuts it off unopened, crushes it into the
sod, can he make reparation? Although it is neither bearded yellow
wheat, nor yet a black tare, it proved the temper of his blade; and
all the skill, all the science of universal humanity, cannot re-
erect the stem, cannot remove the stains, cannot unfold the bruised
petals. There are wrongs that all time will never repair. Your sword
of justice needs no whetting; one stroke has laid me low."

"I purpose to file it two-edged, in order to make no more mistakes.
Before long I shall cut down the real criminal, the principal, who
shall not escape, and for whom you shall not suffer."

"Then 'a life for a life' no longer satisfies? How many are
required? The law has need of a sacrificial stone wide as that of
the Aztecs. Is justice a'daughter of the horse-leech'?"

"So help me God--"

"Hush! Take not His name upon your lips. Men like you cannot afford
to credit the existence of a holy God. This is Christmas--at least
according to the almanac--now as a 'chivalrous Southern gentleman,'
will you grant me a very great favor if I humbly crave it? Ah,
noblesse oblige! you cannot deny me. I beg of you, then, leave me
instantly; come here no more. Never let me see your face again, or
hear your voice, except in the court-room, when I am tried for the
crime which you have told the world I committed. This boon is the
sole possible reparation left you."

She had clasped her hands so tightly, that the nails were bloodless,
and the fluttering in her white throat betrayed the throbbing of her
heart.

"You are afraid of me, because you dread my discovering your secret,
which is--"

"You have done your worst. You have locked me away from a dying
mother; disgraced an innocent life; broken a girl's pure, happy
heart; what else is there to dread? Although a bird knows full well
when it has received its death wound, instinct drives it to flutter,
drag itself as far as possible from the gaze of the sportsman, and
gasp out its agony in some lonely place."

"When I hunt birds, and a partridge droops its wings, and hovers
almost at my feet, inviting capture, I know beyond all peradventure
that it is only love's ruse; that something she holds dearer than
her own life, is thereby screened, saved. You are guilty of a great
crime against yourself, you are submitting tacitly, consenting to an
awful doom, in order to spare and protect the real murderer."

He bent closer, watching breathlessly for some change in her white
stony face; but her sad eyes met his with no wavering of the lids,
and only her delicate nostrils dilated slightly. She raised her
locked hands, rested her lips a moment on her mother's ring, as if
drinking some needed tonic, and answered in the same low, quiet
tone:

"Then, prime minister of justice, set me free, and punish the
guilty. Who murdered General Darrington?"

"You have known from the beginning; and I intend to set you free,
when that cowardly miscreant has been secured. You would die to save
your lover; you, proud, brave, noble natured, would sacrifice your
precious life for that wretched, vile poltroon, who flees and leaves
you to suffer in his stead! Truly, there is no mystery so profound,
so complex, so subtle as a woman's heart. To die for his crimes,
were a happier fate than to sully your fair soul by alliance with
one so degraded; and, by the help of God, I intend to snatch you
from both!"

He had put his hands for an instant upon her shoulders, and his
handsome face flushed, eloquent with the feeling that he no longer
cared to disguise, was so close to hers, that she felt his breath on
her cheek.

Swiftly, unerringly she comprehended everything; and the suddenness
of the discovery dazzled, awed her, as one might feel under the blue
flash of a dagger when thrust into one's clasp for novice fingers to
feel the edge. Was the weapon valued merely because of the
possibility of fleshing it in the heart of him who had darkened her
life? Did he understand as fully the marvellous change in the
beautiful face, that had lured him from his chapel tryst with his
betrothed? He was on the alert for signals of distress, of
embarrassment, of terror; but what meant the glad light that leaped
up in her eyes, the quick flush staining her wan cheek, the
triumphant smile curving lips that a moment before might have
belonged to Guercino's Mater Dolorosa, the relaxation of figure and
features, the unmistakable expression of intense relief that stole
into the countenance?

"Will you be so good as to tell me my lover's name, and where the
fox terriers of the law unearthed him?"

"I will tell you something which you do not already know; that I
have found a clue, that I shall hunt him out, hide, crouch where he
may; that here, where he sinned, he shall expiate his crime, and
that when your lover is hung, your name, your honor, shall be
vindicated. So much, Lennox Dunbar promises you, on his honor as a
gentleman."

"Words, vapid words! Empty, worthless as last year's nests. My
lover," she laughed scornfully, "is quite safe even from your
malevolence. If indeed 'one touch of nature makes the whole world
kin,' one might expect some pity from the guild of love swains; and
it augurs sadly for Miss Gordon's future, that the spell is so
utterly broken."

His dark face reddened, lowered.

"If you please, we will keep Miss Gordon's name out of the
conversation, and hereafter when--"

"Enough! I shall keep her image in my grateful heart, the few
tedious months I have to live; and there seems indeed a sort of
poetic justice in the fact that the bride you covet, has become the
truest, tenderest friend of the hapless girl whom you are
prosecuting for murder."

"Beryl--"

"I forbid such insolent presumption! You shall not utter the name my
father gave me. It is holy as my baptism; it must be kept unsullied
for my lover's lips to fondle. This is your last visit here, for if
you dare to intrude again, I will demand protection from the warden.
I will bear no more."

As he looked at her, the witchery of her youthful loveliness,
heightened by the angry sparkle in her deep eyes, by the vivid
carnation of her curling lips, mastered him; and when he thought of
the brown-haired woman to whom he was pledged, he set his teeth
tight, to smother an execration. He moved toward the door, paused,
and came back.

"Will it comfort you to know that I suffer even more than you do;
that I am plunged into a fiercer purgatory than that to which I have
condemned you? I am devoured by regret; but I will atone. I came
here as your friend; I can never be less, and in defiance of your
hatred, I shall prove my sincerity. Because I bemoan my rash haste,
will you say good-bye kindly? Some day, perhaps, you will
understand."

He held out his hand, and his blue eyes lost their steely glitter,
filled with a prayer for pardon.

She picked up the bouquet which had fallen from the window sill to
the floor, and without hesitation put it into his fingers:

"I think I understand all that words could ever explain. My short
stream of life is very near the great ocean of rest. I have ceased
to struggle, ceased to hope; and since the end is so close, I wish
no active warfare even with those who wronged me most foully. If you
will spare me the sight of you, I will try to forget the added
misery of the visits you have forced upon me, and perhaps some of
the bitterness may die out. Take the flowers to Miss Gordon; leave
no trace to remind me of your persecution. We bear chastisement
because we must, but the sight of the rod renews the sting; so,
henceforth, I hope to see you no more. When we meet before our God,
I may have a new heart, swept clean of earthly hate, but until then-
-until then--"

He caught her fingers, crushed his lips against them, and walked
from the room, leaving the bouquet a shattered mass of perfume in
the middle of the floor.




CHAPTER XVI.


Standing before Leon Gerome's tragic picture, and listening to the
sepulchral echo that floats down the arcade of centuries. "Ave,
Imperator, morituri te salutant," nineteenth century womanhood
frowns, and deplores the brutal depravity which alone explains the
presence of that white-veiled vestal band, whose snowy arms are
thrust in signal over the parapet of the bloody arena; yet fair
daughters of the latest civilization show unblushing flower faces
among the heaving mass of the "great unwashed" who crowd our court-
rooms--and listen to revolting details more repugnant to genuine
modesty, than the mangled remains in the Colosseum. The rosy thumbs
of Roman vestals were potent ballots in the Eternal City, and
possibly were thrown only in the scale of mercy; but having no voice
in verdicts, to what conservative motive may be ascribed the
presence of women at criminal trials? Are the children of Culture,
the heiresses of "all the ages", really more refined than the proud
old dames of the era of Spartacus?

Is the spectacle of mere physical torture, in gladiatorial combats,
or in the bloody precincts of plaza de toros, as grossly
demoralizing as the loathsome minutiae of heinous crimes upon which
legal orators dilate; and which Argus reporters, with magnifying
lenses at every eye, reproduce for countless newspapers, that serve
as wings for transporting moral dynamite to hearthstones and
nurseries all over our land? Is there a distinction, without a
difference, between police gazettes and the journalistic press?

If extremes meet, and the march of human progress be along no
asymtotic line, is the day very distant when we shall welcome the
Renaissance of that wisdom which two thousand years ago held its
august tribunal in the solemn hours of night, when darkness hid from
the Judges everything save well-authenticated facts? The supreme aim
of civil and criminal law being the conservation of national and
individual purity, to what shall we attribute the paradox presented
in its administration, whereby its temples become lairs of libel,
their moral atmosphere defiled by the monstrous vivisection of
parental character by children, the slaughter of family reputation,
the exhaustive analysis of every species of sin forbidden by the
Decalogue, and floods of vulgar vituperation dreadful as the
Apocalyptic vials? Can this generation

     "--in the foremost files of time--"

afford to believe that a grim significance lurks in the desuetude of
typical judicial ermine?

Traditions of ante bellum custom proclaimed that "good society" in
the town of X--, formerly considered the precincts of courts as
unfit for ladies as the fetid air of morgues, or the surgical
instruments on dissecting tables; but the vanguard of cosmopolitan
freedom and progress had pitched tents in the old-fashioned place,
and recruited rapidly from the ranks of the invaded; hence it came
to pass, that on the second day of the murder trial, when the
preliminaries of jury empanelling had been completed, and all were
ready to launch the case, X--announced its social emancipation from
ancient canons of decorum, by the unwonted spectacle of benches
crowded with "ladies", whose silken garments were crushed against
the coarser fabrics of proletariat. Despite the piercing cold of a
morning late in February, the mass of human furnaces had raised the
temperature to a degree that encouraged the fluttering of fans, and
necessitated the order that no additional spectators should be
admitted.

Viewed through the leaden haze of fearful anticipation, the horror
of the impending trial had seemed unendurable to the proud and
sensitive girl, whom the Sheriff placed on a seat fronting the sea
of curious faces, the battery of scrutinizing eyes turned on her
from the jury-box. Four months of dread had unnerved her, yet now
when the cruel actuality seized her in its iron grasp, that superb
strength which the inevitable lends to conscious innocence, so
steeled and fortified her, that she felt lifted to some lonely
height, where numbness eased her aching wounds.

Pallid and motionless, she sat like a statue, save for the slow
strokes of her right hand upon the red gold of her mother's ring;
and the sound of a man's voice reading a formula, seemed to echo
from an immeasurable distance. She had consented to, had
deliberately accepted the worst possible fate, and realized the
isolation of her lot; but for one thing she was not prepared, and
its unexpectedness threatened to shiver her calmness. Two women made
their way toward her: Dyce and Sister Serena. The former sat down in
the rear of the prisoner, the latter stood for a few seconds, and
her thin delicate hand fell upon the girl's shoulder. At sight of
the sweet, placid countenance below the floating white muslin veil,
Beryl's lips quivered into a sad smile; and as they shook hands she
whispered:

"I believe even the gallows will not frighten you two from my side."

Sister Serena seated herself as close as possible, drew from her
pocket a gray woollen stocking, and began to knit. For an instant
Beryl's eyes closed, to shut in the sudden gush of grateful tears;
when she opened them, Mr. Churchill had risen:

"May it please the Court, Gentlemen of the Jury: If fidelity to duty
involved no sacrifice of personal feeling, should we make it the
touchstone of human character, value it as the most precious jewel
in the crown of human virtues? I were less than a man, immeasurably
less than a gentleman, were I capable of addressing you to-day, in
obedience to the behests of justice, and in fulfilment of the stern
requirements of my official position, without emotions of profound
regret, that implacable Duty, to whom I have sworn allegiance,
forces me to hush the pleading whispers of my pitying heart, to
smother the tender instincts of human sympathy, and to listen only
to the solemn mandate of those laws, which alone can secure to our
race the enjoyment of life, liberty and property. An extended
professional career has hitherto furnished me no parallel for the
peculiarly painful exigencies of this occasion; and an awful
responsibility scourges me with scorpion lash to a most unwelcome
task. When man crosses swords with man on any arena, innate pride
nerves his arm and kindles enthusiasm, but alas, for the man! be he
worthy the name, who draws his blade and sees before him a young,
helpless, beautiful woman, disarmed. Were it not a bailable offence
in the court of honor, if his arm fell palsied? Each of you who has
a mother, a wife, a lily browed daughter, put yourself in my place,
lend me your sympathy; and at least applaud the loyalty that
strangles all individuality, and renders me bound thrall of official
duty. Counsel for the defence has been repeatedly offered, nay,
pressed upon the prisoner, but as often persistently rejected; hence
the almost paralyzing repugnance with which I approach my theme.

"The Grand Jury of the county, at its last sitting, returned to this
court a bill of indictment, charging the prisoner at the bar with
the wilful, deliberate and premeditated murder of Robert Luke
Darrington, by striking him with a brass andiron. To this indictment
she has pleaded 'Not Guilty,' and stands before her God and this
community for trial. Gentlemen of the jury, you represent this
commonwealth, jealous of the inviolability of its laws, and by
virtue of your oaths, you are solemnly pledged to decide upon her
guilt or innocence, in strict accordance with the evidence that may
be laid before you. In fulfilling this sacred duty, you will, I feel
assured, be governed exclusively by a stern regard to the demands of
public justice. While it taxes our reluctant credulity to believe
that a crime so hideous could have been committed by a woman's hand,
could have been perpetrated without provocation, within the borders
of our peaceful community, nevertheless, the evidence we shall
adduce must inevitably force you to the melancholy conclusion that
the prisoner at the bar is guilty of the offence, with which she
stands charged. The indictment which you are about to try, charges
Beryl Brentano with the murder.

"In outlining the evidence which will be presented in support of
this indictment, I earnestly desire that you will give me your
dispassionate and undivided attention; and I call God to witness,
that disclaiming personal animosity and undue zeal for vengeance, I
am sorrowfully indicating as an officer of the law, a path of
inquiry, that must lead you to that goal where, before the altar of
Truth, Justice swings her divine scales, and bids Nemesis unsheathe
her sword.

"On the afternoon of October the twenty-sixth, about three o'clock,
a stranger arrived in X--and inquired of the station agent what road
would carry her to 'Elm Bluff', the home of General Darrington;
assuring him she would return in time to take the north-bound train
at 7.15, as urgent business necessitated her return. Demanding an
interview with Gen'l Darrington, she was admitted, incognito, and
proclaimed herself his granddaughter, sent hither by a sick mother,
to procure a certain sum of money required for specified purposes.
That the interview was stormy, was characterized by fierce invective
on her part, and by bitter denunciation and recrimination on his, is
too well established to admit of question; and they parted
implacable foes, as is attested by the fact that he drove her from
his room through a rear and unfrequented door, opening into a flower
garden, whence she wandered over the grounds until she found the
gate. The vital import of this interview lies in the great stress
Gen'l Darrington placed upon the statement he iterated and
reiterated; that he had disinherited his daughter, and drawn up a
will bequeathing his entire estate to his step-son Prince.

"Miss Brentano did not leave X--at 7.15, though she had ample time
to do so, after quitting 'Elm Bluff'. She loitered about the station
house until nearly half-past eight, then disappeared. At 10 P.M. she
was seen and identified by a person who had met her at 'Elm Bluff',
crouching behind a tree near the road that led to that ill-fated
house, and when questioned regarding her presence there, gave
unsatisfactory answers. At half-past two o'clock she was next seen
hastening toward the station office, along the line of the railroad,
from the direction of the water tank, which is situated nearly a
mile north of town. Meanwhile an unusually severe storm had been
followed by a drenching rain, and the stranger's garments were wet,
when, after a confused and contradictory account of her movements,
she boarded the 3.05 train bound north.

"During that night, certainly after ten o'clock, Gen'l Darrington
was murdered. His vault was forced open, money was stolen, and most
significant of all, the WILL was abstracted. Criminal jurisprudence
holds that the absence of motive renders nugatory much weighty
testimony. In this melancholy cause, could a more powerful motive be
imagined than that which goaded the prisoner to dip her fair hands
in her grandfather's blood, in order to possess and destroy that
will, which stood as an everlasting barrier between her and the
estate she coveted?

"Crimes are referrible to two potent passions of the human soul;
malice, engendering thirst for revenge, and the insatiable lust of
money. If that old man had died a natural death, leaving the will he
had signed, his property would have belonged to the adopted son, to
whom he bequeathed it, and Mrs. Brentano and her daughter would have
remained paupers. Cut off by assassination, and with no record of
his last wishes in existence, the beloved son is bereft of his
legacy, and Beryl Brentano and her mother inherit the blood-bought
riches they covet. When arrested, gold coins and jewels identified
as those formerly deposited in Gen'l Darrington's vault, were found
in possession of the prisoner; and as if every emissary of fate were
armed with warrants for her detection, a handkerchief bearing her
initials, and saturated with the chloroform which she had
administered to her victim, was taken from the pillow, where his
honored gray head rested, when he slept his last sleep on earth.
Further analysis would insult your intelligence, and having very
briefly laid before you the intended line of testimony, I believe I
have assigned a motive for this monstrous crime, which must
precipitate the vengeance of the law, in a degree commensurate with
its enormity. Time, opportunity, motive, when in full accord,
constitute a fatal triad, and the suspicious and unexplainable
conduct of the prisoner in various respects, furnishes, in
connection with other circumstances of this case, the strongest
presumptive evidence of her guilt. These circumstances, far beyond
the realm of human volition, smelted and shaped in the rolling mills
of destiny, form the tramway along which already the car of doom
thunders; and when they shall have been fully proved to you, by
unassailable testimony, no alternative remains but the verdict of
guilty. Mournful as is the duty, and awfully solemn the necessity
that leaves the issue of life and death in your hands, remember,
gentlemen, Curran's immortal words: 'A juror's oath is the
adamantine chain that binds the integrity of man to the throne of
eternal justice'."

No trace of emotion was visible on the prisoner's face, except at
the harsh mention of her mother's name; when a shudder was
perceptible, as in one where dentist's steel pierces a sensitive
nerve. In order to avoid the hundreds of eyes that stabbed her like
merciless probes, her own had been raised and fixed upon a portion
of the cornice in the room where a family of spiders held busy camp;
but a fascination song resisted, finally drew their gaze down to a
seat near the bar, and she encountered the steady, sorrowful regard
of Mr. Dunbar.

Two months had elapsed since the Christmas morning on which she had
rejected his floral offering, and during that weary season of
waiting, she had refused to see any visitors except Dyce and Sister
Serena; resolutely denying admittance to Miss Gordon. She knew that
he had been absent, had searched for some testimony in New York, and
now meeting his eyes, she saw a sudden change in their expression--a
sparkle, a smile of encouragement, a declaration of success. He
fancied he understood the shadow of dread that drifted over her
face; and she realized at that instant, that of all foes, she had
most to apprehend from the man who she knew loved her with an
unreasoning and ineradicable fervor. How much had he discovered? She
could defy the district solicitor, the judge, the jury; but only one
method of silencing the battery that was ambushed in those gleaming
blue eyes presented itself. To extinguish his jealousy, by removing
the figment of a rival, might rob him of the motive that explained
his persistent pursuit of the clue she had concealed; but it would
simultaneously demolish, also, the barrier that stretched between
Miss Gordon's happy heart and the bitter waves of a cruel
disappointment. If assured that her own affection was unpledged,
would the bare form and ceremonial of honor bind his allegiance to
his betrothed? Absorbed in these reflections, the prisoner became
temporarily oblivious of the proceedings; and it was not until
Sister Serena touched her arm, that she saw the vast throng was
watching her, waiting for some reply. The Judge repeated his
question:

"Is it the desire of the prisoner to answer the presentation of the
prosecution? Having refused professional defence, you now have the
option of addressing the Court."

"Let the prosecution proceed."

There was no quiver in her voice, as cold, sweet and distinct it
found its way to the extremity of the wide apartment; yet therein
lurked no defiance. She resumed her seat, and her eyes sank, until
the long black fringes veiled their depths. Unperceived, Judge Dent
had found a seat behind her, and leaning forward he whispered:

"Will you permit me to speak for you?"

"Thank you--no."

"But it cuts me to the heart to see you so forsaken, so helpless."

"God is my helper; He will not forsake me."

The first witness called and sworn was Doctor Ledyard, the physician
who for many years had attended General Darrington; and who
testified that when summoned to examine the body of deceased, on the
morning of the inquest, he had found it so rigid that at least eight
hours must have elapsed since life became extinct. Had discovered no
blood stains, and only two contusions, one on the right temple,
where a circular black spot was conspicuous, and a bluish bruise
over the region of the heart. He had visited deceased on the morning
of previous day, and he then appeared much better, and almost
relieved of rheumatism and pains attributable to an old wound in the
right knee. The skull had not been fractured by the blow on the
temple, but witness believed it had caused death; and the andiron,
which he identified as the one found on the floor close to the
deceased, was so unusually massive, he was positive that if hurled
with any force, it would produce a fatal result.

Mr, Churchill: "Did you at that examination detect any traces of
chloroform?"

"There was an odor of chloroform very perceptible when we lifted the
hair to examine the skull; and on searching the room, we found a
vial which had contained chloroform, and was beside the pillow,
where a portion had evidently leaked out."

"Could death have occurred in consequence of inhaling that
chloroform?"

"If so, the deceased could never have risen, and would have been
found in his bed; moreover, the limbs were drawn up, and bent into a
position totally inconsistent with any theory of death produced by
anaesthetics; and the body was rigid as iron."

The foregoing testimony was confirmed by that of Doctor Cranmar, a
resident physician, who had been summoned by the Coroner to assist
Doctor Ledyard in the examination, reported formally at the inquest.

"Here, gentlemen of the jury, is the fatal weapon with which a
woman's hand, supernaturally nerved in the struggle for gain, struck
down, destroyed a venerable old man, an honored citizen, whose gray
hairs should have shielded him from the murderous assault of a
mercenary adventuress. Can she behold without a shudder, this tell-
tale instrument of her monstrous crime?"

High above his head, Mr. Churchill raised the old-fashioned andiron,
and involuntarily Beryl glanced at the quaint brass figure, cast in
the form of a unicorn, with a heavy ball surmounting the horn.

"Abednego Darrington!"

Sullen, crestfallen and woe-begone was the demeanor of the old
negro, who had been brought vi et armis by a constable, from the
seclusion of a corner of the "Bend Plantation", where he had
secreted himself, to avoid the shame of bearing testimony against
his mistress' child. When placed on the witness stand, he crossed
his arms over his chest, planted his right foot firmly in advance,
and fixed his eyes on the leather strings that tied his shoes.

After some unimportant preliminaries, the District Solicitor asked:

"When did you first see the prisoner, who now sits before you?"

"When she come to our house, the evening before ole Marster died."

"You admitted her to your Master's presence?"

"I never tuck no sech libberties. He tole me to let her in."

"You carried her to his room?"

"Yes, sir."

"About what time of the day was it?"

"Don't know."

"Gen'l Darrington always dined at three o'clock. Was it before or
after dinner?"

"After."

"How long was the prisoner in the General's room?"

"Don't know."

"Did she leave the house by the front door, or the side door?"

"Can't say. Didn't see her when she come out."

"About how long was she in the house?"

"I totes no watch, and I never had no luck guessing. I'm shore to
land wrong."

"Was it one hour or two?"

"Mebbe more, mebbe less."

"Where were you during that visit?"

"Feedin' my game pullets in the backyard."

"Did you hear any part of the conversation between the prisoner and
Gen'l Darrington?"

"No, sir! I'm above the meanness of eavesdrapping."

"How did you learn that she was the granddaughter of Gen'l
Darrington?"

"Miss Angerline, the white 'oman what mends and sews, come to the
back piazer, and beckoned me to run there. She said ther must be a
'high ole fracas', them was her words, agoin' on in Marster's room,
for he was cussin' and swearin', and his granddaughter was jawing
back very vicious. Sez I, 'Who'? Sez she, 'His granddaughter; that
is Ellice's chile'. Sez I, 'How do you know so much'? Sez she, 'I
was darning them liberry curtains, and I couldn't help hearing the
wrangle'. Sez I, 'You picked a oncommon handy time to tackle them
curtains; they must be mighty good to cure the ear-itch'. She axed
me if I didn't see the family favor in the 'oman's face; and I tole
her no, but I would see for myself. Sez she, to me, 'No yow won't,
for the Gen'l is in a tearing rage, and he's done drove her out, and
kicked and slammed the doors. She's gone.'"

"Then you did not see her?"

"I went to the front piazer, and I seen her far down the lawn, but
Marster rung his bell so savage, I had to run back to him."

"Did he tell you the prisoner was his granddaughter?"

"No, sir."

"Did you mention the fact to him?"

"I wouldn't 'a dared to meddle with his fambly bizness!"

"He appeared very angry and excited?"

"He 'peard to want some ole Conyyac what was in the sideboard, and I
brung the bottle to him."

"Do you remember whether his vault in the wall was open, when you
answered the bell?"

"I didn't notice it."

"Where did you sleep that night?"

"On a pallet in the middle passage, nigh the star steps."

"Was that your usual custom?"

"No, sir. But the boy what had been sleepin' in the house while ole
Marster was sick, had gone to set up with his daddy's corpse, and I
tuck his place."

"Did you hear any unusual noise during the night?"

"Only the squalling of the pea-fowul what was oncommon oneasy, and
the thunder that was ear-splitting. One clap was so tremenjous it
raised me plum off'en the pallet, and jarred me to my backbone, as
if a cannon had gone off close by."

"Now, Bedney, state carefully all the circumstances under which you
found your master the next morning; and remember you are on your
oath, to speak the truth, and all the truth."

"He was a early riser, and always wanted his shavin' water promp'.
When his bell didn't ring, I thought the storm had kep' him awake,
and he was having a mornin' nap, to make up for lost time. The clock
had struck eight, and the cook said as how the steak and chops was
as dry as a bone from waitin', and so I got the water and went to
Marster's door. It was shet tight, and I knocked easy. He never
answered; so I knocked louder; and thinkin' somethin' was shorely
wrong, I opened the door--"

"Go on. What did you find?"

"Mars Alfred, sir, it's very harryfyin to my feelins."

"Go on. You are required to state all you saw, all you know."

Bedney drew back his right foot, advanced his left. Took out his
handkerchief, wiped his face and refolded his arms.

"My Marster was layin' on the rug before the fireplace, and his
knees was all drawed up. His right arm, was stretched out, so--and
his left hand was all doubled up. I know'd he was dead, before I
tetched him, for his face was set; and pinched and blue. I reckon I
hollered, but I can't say, for the next thing I knowed, the horsler
and the cook, and Miss Angerline, and Dyce, my ole 'oman, and Gord
knows who all, was streamin' in and out and screamin'."

"What was the condition of the room?"

"The front window was up, and the blinds was flung wide open, and a
cheer was upside clown close to it. The red vases what stood on the
fire-place mantle was smashed on the carpet, and the handi'on was
close to Marster's right hand. The vault was open, and papers was
strowed plentiful round on the floor under it. Then the neighburs
and the Doctor, and the Crowner come runnin' in, and I sot down by
the bed and cried like a chile. Pretty soon they turned us all out
and hilt the inquess."

"You do not recollect any other circumstance?"

"The lamp on the table was burnin'--and ther' wan't much oil left in
it. I seen Miss Angerline blow it out, after the Doctor come."

"Who found the chloroform vial?"

"Don't know."

"Did you hear any name mentioned as that of the murderer?"

"Miss Angerline tole the Crowner, that ef the will was missin',
Gen'l Darrington's granddaughter had stole it. They two, with some
other gentleman, sarched the vault, and Miss Angerline said
everything was higgledy piggledy and no will there."

"You testified before the Coroner?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why did you not give him the handkerchief you found?"

"I didn't have it then."

"When and where did you get it? Be very careful now."

For the first time Bedney raised his eyes toward the place where
Dyce sat near the prisoner, and he hesitated. He took some tobacco
from his vest pocket, stowed it away in the hollow of his cheek, and
re-crossed his arms.

"When Marster was dressed, and they carried him out to the drawing-
room, Dyce was standin' cryin' by the fireplace, and I went to the
bed, and put my hand under the bolster, where Marster always kep'
his watch and his pistol. The watch was ther' but no pistol; and
just sorter stuffed under the pillow case--was, a hank'cher. I tuk
the watch straight to the gentlemen in the drawin'-room, and they
come back and sarched for the pistol, and we foun' it layin' in its
case in the table draw'. Of all the nights in his life, ole Marster
had forgot to lay his pistol handy."

"Never mind about the pistol. What became of the handkerchief?"

"When I picked it up, an injun-rubber stopper rolled out, and as
ther' wan't no value in a hank'cher, I saw no harm in keepin' it--
for a'mento of ole Marster's death."

"You knew it was a lady's handkerchief."

"No, sir! I didn't know it then; and what's more, I don't know it
now."

"Is not this the identical handkerchief you found?"

"Cant say. 'Dentical is a ticklish trap for a pusson on oath. It do
look like it, to be shore; but two seed in a okrey pod is ezactly
alike, and one is one, and t'other is t'other."

"Look at it. To the best of your knowledge and belief it is the
identical handkerchief you found on Gen'l Darrington's pillow?"

"What I found had red specks sewed in the border, and this seems
jest like it; but I don't sware to no dentical--'cause I means to be
kereful; and I will stand to the aidge of my oath; but--Mars Alfred-
-don't shove me over it."

"Can't you read?"

"No, sir; I never hankered after book-larnin' tomfoolery, and other
freedom frauds."

"You know your A B C's?"

"No more 'n a blind mule."

As the solicitor took from the table in front of the jury box, the
embroidered square of cambric, and held it up by two corners, every
eye in the court-room fastened upon it; and a deadly faintness
seized the prisoner, whitening lips that hitherto had kept their
scarlet outlines.

"Gentlemen of the jury, if the murdered man could stand before you,
for one instant only, his frozen finger would point to the fatal
letters which destiny seems to have left as a bloody brand. Here in
indelible colors are wrought 'B. B.'!--Beryl Brentano. Do you
wonder, gentlemen, that when this overwhelming evidence of her guilt
came into my possession, compassion for a beautiful woman was
strangled by supreme horror, in the contemplation of the depravity
of a female monster? If these crimson letters were gaping wounds,
could their bloody lips more solemnly accuse yonder blanched,
shuddering, conscience-stricken woman of the sickening crime of
murdering her aged, infirm grandfather, from whose veins she drew
the red tide that now curdles at her heart?"




CHAPTER XVII.


As the third day of the trial wore away, the dense crowd in the
court-room became acquainted with the sensation of having been
unjustly defrauded of the customary public peruisite; because the
monotonous proceedings were entirely devoid of the spirited verbal
duels, the microscopic hair splitting, the biting sarcasms of
opposing counsel, the brow-beating of witnesses, the tenacious
wrangling over invisible legal points, which usually vary and spice
the routine and stimulate the interest of curious spectators. When a
spiritless fox disdains to double, and stands waiting for the
hounds, who have only to rend it, hunters feel cheated, and deem it
no chase.

To the impatient spectators, it appeared a very tame, one-sided, and
anomalous trial, where like a slow stream the evidences of guilt
oozed, and settled about the prisoner, who challenged the
credibility of no witness, and waived all the privileges of cross-
examination. Now and then, the audience criticised in whispers the
"undue latitude" allowed by the Judge, to the District Solicitor;
but their "exceptions" were informal, and the prosecution received
no serious or important rebuff.

Was the accused utterly callous, or paralyzed by consciousness of
her crime; or biding her time for a dramatic outburst of vindicating
testimony? To her sensitive nature, the ordeal of sitting day after
day to be stared at by a curious and prejudiced public, was more
torturing than the pangs of Marsyas; and she wondered whether a
courageous Roman captive who was shorn of his eyelids, and set under
the blistering sun of Africa, suffered any more keenly; but
motionless, apparently impassive as a stone mask, on whose features
pitiless storms beat in vain, she bore without wincing the agony of
her humiliation. Very white and still, she sat hour by hour with
downcast eyes, and folded hands; and those who watched most closely
could detect only one change of position; now and then she raised
her clasped hands, and rested her lips a moment on the locked
fingers, then dropped them wearily on her lap.

Even when a juryman asked two searching questions of a witness, she
showed no sign of perturbation, and avoided meeting the eyes in the
jury-box, as though they belonged to basilisks. Was it only three
days since the beginning of this excruciating martyrdom of soul; and
how much longer could she endure silently, and keep her reason?

At times, Sister Serena's hand forsook the knitting, to lay a soft,
caressing touch of encouragement and sympathy on the girl's
shoulder; and Dyce's burning indignation vented itself in frequent
audible grating of her strong white teeth. So passed Monday,
Tuesday, Wednesday, in the examination of witnesses who
recapitulated all that had been elicited at the preliminary
investigation; and each nook and cranny of recollection in the mind
of Anthony Burk, the station agent; of Belshazzer Tatem, the lame
gardener; of lean and acrid Miss Angeline, the seamstress, was
illuminated by the lurid light of Mr. Churchill's adroit
interrogation. Thus far, the prosecution had been conducted by the
District Solicitor, with the occasional assistance of Mr. Wolverton,
who, in conjunction with Mr. Dunbar, had appeared as representative
of the Darrington estate, and its legal heir, Prince; and when court
adjourned on Wednesday, the belief was generally entertained that no
defence was possible; and that at the last moment, the prisoner
would confess her crime, and appeal to the mercy of the jury. As the
deputy sheriff led his prisoner toward the rear entrance, where
stood the dismal funereal black wagon in which she was brought from
prison to court, Judge Dent came quickly to meet her.

"My niece, Miss Gordon, could not, of course, come into the court-
room, but she is here in the library, with her aunt, and desires to
see you for a moment?"

"Tell her I am grateful for her kind motives, but I wish to see no
one now."

"For your own sake, consider the--ah! here is my niece."

"I hope you need no verbal assurance of my deep sympathy, and my
constant prayers," said Leo, taking one passive hand between hers,
and pressing it warmly.

"Miss Gordon, I am comforted by your compassion, and by your
unwavering confidence in a stranger whom your townsmen hold up as a
'female monster'. Because I so profoundly realize how good you are,
I am unwilling that you should identify yourself with my hopeless
cause. My sufferings will soon be over, and then I want no shadowy
reflex cast upon the smiling blue sky of your future. I have nothing
more to lose, save the burden of a life--that I shall be glad to lay
down; but you--! Be careful, do not jeopardize your beautiful dream
of happiness."

"Why do you persist in rejecting the overtures of those who could
assist, who might successfully defend you? I beg of you, consent to
receive and confer with counsel, even to-night."

"You will never understand why I must not, till the earth gives up
her dead. You tremble, because only one more link can be added to
the chain that is coiling about my neck, and that link is the
testimony of the man whose name you expect to bear. Miss Gordon"--
she stooped closer, and whispered slowly: "Do not upbraid your
lover; be tender, cling to him; and afford me the consolation of
knowing that the unfortunate woman you befriended, and trusted, cast
not even a fleeting shadow between your heart and his. Pray for me,
that I may be patient and strong. God bless you."

Turning swiftly, she hurried on to the officer, who had courteously
withdrawn a few yards distant. As he opened the door of the wagon,
he handed her a loosely folded sheet of paper.

"I promised to deliver your answer as soon as possible."

By aid of the red glow, burning low in the western sky, she read:

"Mr. Dunbar requests that for her own sake, Miss Brentano will grant
him an interview this evening."

"My answer must necessarily be verbal. Say that I will see no one."

To the solitude and darkness of prison she fled for relief, as into
some merciful sheltering arms; and not even the loving solicitude of
Mrs. Singleton was permitted to penetrate her seclusion, or share
her dreary vigil. Another sleepless night dragged its leaden hours
to meet the dawn, bringing no rest to the desolate soul, who
silently grappled with fate, while every womanly instinct shuddered
at the loathsome degradation forced upon her. Face downward on her
hard, narrow cot, she recalled the terrible accusations, the
opprobrious epithets, and tearless, convulsive sobs of passionate
protest shook her from head to foot.

Tortured with indignation and shame, at the insults heaped upon her,
yet sternly resolved to endure silently, these nights were veritable
stations along her Via Dolorosa; and fortified her for the daily
flagellation in front of the jury-box.

On Thursday a slow, sleeting rain enveloped the world in a gray
cowl, bristling with ice needles; yet when Judge Parkman took his
seat at nine o'clock, there was a perceptible increase in the living
mass, packed in every available inch of space.

For the first time, Mr. Dunbar's seat between his colleagues was
vacant; and Mr. Churchill and Mr. Wolverton were conversing in an
animated whisper.

Clad in mourning garments, and with a long crape veil put back from
her face, the prisoner was escorted to her accustomed place; and
braced by a supreme effort for the critical hour, which she felt
assured was at hand, her pale set features gleamed like those of a
marble statue shrouded in black.

Called to the stand, Simon Frisby testified that "he was telegraph
operator, and night train despatcher for railway in X--. On October
the twenty-sixth, had just gone on duty at 8 P.M. at the station,
when prisoner came in, and sent a telegram to New York. A copy of
that message had been surrendered to the District Solicitor. Witness
had remained all night in his office, which adjoined the ladies'
waiting-room, and his attention having been attracted by the unusual
fact that it was left open and lighted, he had twice gone to the
door and looked in, but saw no one. Thought the last inspection was
about two o'clock, immediately after he had sent a message to the
conductor on train No. 4. Saw prisoner when she came in, a half hour
later, and heard the conversation between her and Burk, the station
agent. Was very positive prisoner could not have been in the ladies'
waiting-room during the severe storm."

Mr. Churchill read aloud the telegram addressed to Mrs. Ignace
Brentano: "Complete success required delay. All will be
satisfactory. Expect me Saturday. B. B."

He commented on its ambiguous phraseology, sent the message to the
jury for inspection, and resumed his chair.

"Lennox Dunbar."

Sister Serena's knitting fell from her fingers; Dyce groaned
audibly, and Judge Dent, sitting quite near, uttered a heavy sigh.
The statue throbbed into life, drew herself proudly up; and with a
haughty poise of the head, her grand eloquent gray eyes looked up at
the witness, and for the first time during the trial bore a
challenge. For fully a moment, eye met eye, soul looked into soul,
with only a few feet of space dividing prisoner from witness; and as
the girl scanned the dark, resolute, sternly chiselled face, cold,
yet handsome as some faultless bronze god, a singular smile unbent
her frozen lips, and Judge Dent and Sister Serena wondered what the
scarcely audible ejaculation meant:

"At the mercy of Tiberius!"

No faintest reflection of the fierce pain at his heart could have
been discerned on that non-committal countenance; and as he turned
to the jury, his swart magnetic face appeared cruelly hard,
sinister.

"I first saw the prisoner at 'Elm Bluff', on the afternoon previous
to Gen'l Darrington's death. When I came out of the house, she was
sitting bareheaded on the front steps, fanning herself with her hat,
and while I was untying my horse, she followed Bedney into the
library. The blinds were open and I saw her pass the window, walking
in the direction of the bedroom."

Mr. Churchill: "At that time did you suspect her relationship to
your client, Gen'l Darrington?"

"I did not."

"What was the impression left upon your mind?"

"That she was a distinguished stranger, upon some important errand."

"She excited your suspicions at once?"

"Nothing had occurred to justify suspicion. My curiosity was
aroused. Several hours later I was again at 'Elm Bluff' on legal
business, and found Gen'l Darrington much disturbed in consequence
of an interview with the prisoner, who, he informed me, was the
child of his daughter, whom he had many years previous disowned and
disinherited. In referring to this interview, his words were: 'I was
harsh to the girl, so harsh that she turned upon me, savage as a
strong cub defending a crippled, helpless dam. Mother and daughter
know now that the last card has been played; for I gave the girl
distinctly to understand, that at my death Prince would inherit
every iota of my estate, and that my will had been carefully written
in order to cut them off without a cent.'"

"You were led to infer that Gen'l Darrington had refused her
application for money?"

"There was no mention of an application for money, hence I inferred
nothing."

"During that conversation, the last which Gen'l Darrington held on
earth, did he not tell you he was oppressed by an awful presentiment
connected with his granddaughter?"

"His words were: 'Somehow I am unable to get rid of the strange,
disagreeable presentiment that girl let behind her as a farewell
legacy. She stood there at the glass door, and raised her hand:
'Gen'l Darrington, when you lie down to die, may God have more mercy
on your poor soul, than you have shown to your suffering child.'

"I advised him to sleep off the disagreeable train of thought, and
as I bade him good night, his last words were:

"'I shall write to Prince to come home.'"

"What do you know concerning the contents of your client's will?"

"The original will was drawn up by my father in 187-, but last May,
Gen'l Darrington required me to re-write it, as he wished to
increase the amount of a bequest to a certain charitable
institution. The provisions of the will were, that with the
exception of various specified legacies, his entire estate, real and
personal, should be given to his stepson Prince; and it was
carefully worded, with the avowed intention of barring all claims
that might be presented by Ellice Brentano or her heirs."

"Do you recollect any allusion to jewelry?"

"One clause of the will set aside a case of sapphire stones, with
the direction that whenever Prince Darrington married, they should
be worn by the lady as a bridal present from him."

"Would you not deem it highly incompatible with all you know of the
Gen'l's relentless character, that said sapphires and money should
have been given to the prisoner?"

"My surmises would be irrelevant and valueless to the Court; and
facts, indisputable facts, are all that should be required of
witnesses."

"When and where did you next see the prisoner?"

Cold, crisp, carefully accentuated, his words fell like lead upon
the ears of all present, whose sympathies were enlisted for the
desolate woman; and as he stood, tall, graceful, with one hand
thrust within his vest, the other resting easily on the back of the
bench near him, his clear cut face so suggestive of metallic
medallions, gave no more hint of the smouldering flame at his heart
than the glittering ice crown of Eiriksjokull betrays the fierce
lava tides beating beneath its frozen crust.

"At 10 o'clock on the same night, I saw the prisoner on the road
leading from town to 'Elm Bluff', and not farther than half a mile
from the cedar bridge spanning the 'branch', at the foot of the hill
where the iron gate stands."

"She was then going in the direction of 'Elm Bluff?'"

"She was sitting on the ground, with her head leaning against a pine
tree, but she rose as I approached."

"As it was at night, is there a possibility of your having mistaken
some one else for the prisoner?"

"None whatever. She wore no hat, and the moon shone full on her
face."

"Did you not question her about her presence there, at such an
hour?"

"I asked: 'Madam, you seem a stranger; have you lost your way?' She
answered, 'No, sir.' I added: 'Pardon me, but having seen you at
"Elm Bluff" this afternoon, I thought it possible you had missed the
road.' She made no reply, and I rode on to town."

"She betrayed so much trepidation and embarrassment, that your
suspicion was at once aroused?"

"She evinced neither trepidation nor embarrassment. Her manner was
haughty and repellent, as though designed to rebuke impertinence.
Next morning, when informed of the peculiar circumstances attending
Gen'l Darrington's death, I felt it incumbent upon me to communicate
to the magistrate the facts which I have just narrated."

"An overwhelming conviction of the prisoner's guilt impelled you to
demand her arrest?"

"Overwhelming conviction rarely results from merely circumstantial
evidence, but a combination of accusing circumstances certainly
pointed to the prisoner; and following their guidance, I am
responsible for her arrest and detention for trial. To the scrutiny
of the Court I have submitted every fact that influenced my action,
and the estimate of their value decided by the jurymen, must either
confirm the cogency of my reasoning, or condemn my rash fallibility.
Having under oath conscientiously given all the evidence in my
possession, that the prosecution would accept or desire, I now
respectfully request, that unless the prisoner chooses to exercise
her right of cross-examination, my colleagues of the prosecution,
and his Honor, will grant me a final discharge as witness."

Turning toward Beryl, Judge Parkman said:

"It is my duty again to remind you, that the cross-examination of
witnesses is one of the most important methods of defence; as
thereby inaccuracies of statement regarding time, place, etc., are
often detected in criminal prosecutions, which otherwise might
remain undiscovered. To this invaluable privilege of every
defendant, I call your attention once more. Will you cross-question
the witness on the stand?"

Involuntarily her eyes sought those of the witness, and despite his
locked and guarded face, she read there an intimation that vaguely
disquieted her. She knew that the battle with him must yet be
fought.

"I waive the right."

"Then, with the consent of the prosecuting counsel, witness is
discharged, subject to recall should the necessities of rebuttal
demand it."

"By agreement with my colleagues, I ask for final discharge, subject
to your Honor's approval."

"If in accordance with their wishes, the request is granted."

The clock on the turret struck one, the hour of adjournment, and ere
recess was declared, Mr. Churchill rose.

"Having now proved by trustworthy and unquestioned witnesses, a dark
array of facts, which no amount of additional testimony could either
strengthen, or controvert, the prosecution here rest their case
before the jury for inspection; and feeling assured that only one
conclusion can result, will call no other witness, unless required
in rebuttal."

Desiring to be alone, Beryl had shut out even Sister Serena, and as
the officer locked her into a dark antechamber, adjoining the court-
room, she began to pace the floor. One tall, narrow window, dim with
inside dust, showed her through filmy cobwebs the gray veil of rain
falling ceaselessly outside, darkening the day that seemed a fit
type of her sombre-hued life, drawing swiftly to its close, with no
hope of rift in the clouds, no possibility of sunset glow even to
stain its grave. Oh! to be hidden safely in mother earth--away from
the gaping crowd that thirsted for her blood!--at rest in darkness
and in silence; with the maddening stings of outraged innocence and
womanly delicacy stilled forever. Oh! the coveted peace of lying
under the sod, with only nodding daisies, whispering grasses,
crystal chimes of vernal rain, solemn fugue of wintry winds between
her tired, aching eyes and the fair, eternal heavens! Harrowing days
and sleepless, horror-haunted nights, invincible sappers and miners,
had robbed her of strength; and the uncontrollable shivering that
now and then seized her, warned her that her nerves were in revolt
against the unnatural strain. The end was not far distant, she must
endure a little longer; but that last battle with Mr. Dunbar? On
what ground, with what weapons would he force her to fight? Kneeling
in front of a wooden bench that lined one side of the room, she laid
her head on the seat, covered her face with her hands, and prayed
for guidance, for divine help in her hour of supreme desolation.

"God of the helpless, succor me in my need. Forbid that through
weakness the sacrifice should be incomplete. Lead, sustain, fortify
me with patience, that I may ransom the soul I have promised to
save."

After a time, when she resumed her walk, a strange expedient
presented itself. If she sent for Mr. Dunbar, exacted an oath of
secrecy, and confided the truth to his keeping, would it avail to
protect her secret; would it silence him? Could she stoop so low as
to throw herself upon his mercy? Therein lay the nauseous lees of
her cup of humiliation; yet if she drained this last black drop,
would any pledge have power to seal his lips, when he saw that she
must die?

The deputy sheriff unlocked the door, and she mechanically followed
him.

"I wish you would drink this glass of wine. You look so exhausted,
and the air in yonder is so close, it is enough to stifle a mole.
This will help to brace you up."

"Thank you very much, but I could not take it. I can bear my wrongs
even to the end, and that must be very near."

As he ushered her into the court-room, Judge Dent met her, took her
hand, and led her to the seat where Dyce and Sister Serena awaited
her return.

"My poor child, be courageous now; and remember that you have some
friends here, who are praying God to help and deliver you."

"Did He deliver His own Son from the pangs of death? Pray, that I
may be patient to endure."

One swift glance, showed her that Mr. Dunbar, forsaking his former
place beside the district attorney, was sitting very near, just in
front of her. The jurymen filed slowly into their accustomed seats,
and the judge, who had been resting his head on his hand,
straightened himself, and put aside a book. There was an ominous
hush pervading the dense crowd, and in that moment of silent
expectancy, Beryl shut her eyes and communed with her God. Some
mystical exaltation of soul removed her from the realm of nervous
dread; and a peace, that this world neither gives nor takes away,
settled upon her. Sister Serena untied and took off the crape veil
and bonnet, and as she resumed her seat, Judge Parkman turned to the
prisoner.

"In assuming the responsibility of your own defence you have adopted
a line of policy which, however satisfactory to yourself, must, in
the opinion of the public, have a tendency to invest your cause with
peculiar peril; therefore I impress upon you the fact, that while
the law holds you innocent, until twelve men agree that the evidence
proves you guilty, the time has arrived when your cause depends upon
your power to refute the charges, and disprove the alleged facts
arrayed against you. The discovery and elucidation of Truth, is the
supreme aim of a court of justice, and to its faithful ministers the
defence of innocence is even more imperative than the conviction of
guilt. The law is a Gibraltar, fortified and armed by the consummate
wisdom of successive civilizations, as an impregnable refuge for
innocence; and here, within its protecting bulwarks, as in the house
of a friend, you are called on to plead your defence. You have heard
the charges of the prosecution; listened to the testimony of the
witnesses; and having taken your cause into your own hands, you must
now stand up and defend it."

She rose and walked a few steps closer to the jury, and for the
first time during the trial, looked at them steadily. White as a
statue of Purity, she stood for a moment, with her wealth of shining
auburn hair coiled low on her shapely head, and waving in soft
outlines around her broad full brow. Unnaturally calm, and
wonderfully beautiful in that sublime surrender, which like a halo
illumines the myth of Antigone, it was not strange that every heart
thrilled, when upon the strained ears of the multitude fell the
clear, sweet, indescribably mournful voice.

"When a magnolia blossom or a white camellia just fully open, is
snatched by violent hands, bruised, crushed, blackened, scarred by
rents, is it worth keeping? No power can undo the ruin, and since
all that made it lovely--its stainless purity--is irrevocably
destroyed, why preserve it? Such a pitiable wreck you have made of
the young life I am bidden to stand up and defend. Have you left me
anything to live for? Dragged by constables before prejudiced
strangers, accused of awful crimes, denounced as a female monster,
herded with convicts, can you imagine any reason why I should
struggle to prolong a disgraced, hopelessly ruined existence? My
shrivelled, mutilated life is in your hands, and if you decide to
crush it quickly, you will save me much suffering; as when having,
perhaps unintentionally, mangled some harmless insect, you
mercifully turn back, grind it under your heel, and end its torture.
My life is too wretched now to induce me to defend it, but there is
something I hold far dearer, my reputation as an honorable Christian
woman; something I deem most sacred of all--the unsullied purity of
the name my father and mother bore. Because I am innocent of every
charge made against me, I owe it to my dead, to lift their honored
name out of the mire. I have pondered the testimony; and the awful
mass of circumstances that have combined to accuse me, seems indeed
so overwhelming, that as each witness came forward, I have asked
myself, am I the victim of some baleful destiny, placed in the
grooves of destroying fate-foreordained from the foundations of the
world to bear the burden of another's guilt? You have been told that
I killed Gen'l Darrington, and stole his money and jewels, and
destroyed his will, in order to possess his estate. Trustworthy
witnesses have sworn to facts, which I cannot deny, and you believe
these facts; and yet, while the snare tightens around my feet, and I
believe you intend to condemn me, I stand here, and look you in the
face--as one day we thirteen will surely stand at the final
judgment--and in the name of the God I love, and fear, and trust, I
call you each to witness, that I am innocent of every charge in the
indictment. My hands are as unstained, my soul is as unsullied by
theft or bloodshed, as your sinless babes cooing in their cradles.

"If you can clear your minds of the foul tenants thrust into them,
try for a little while to forget all the monstrous crimes you have
heard ascribed to me, and as you love your mothers, wives,
daughters, go back with me, leaving prejudice behind, and listen
dispassionately to my most melancholy story. The river of death
rolls so close to my weary feet, that I speak as one on the brink of
eternity; and as I hope to meet my God in peace, I shall tell you
the truth. Sometimes it almost shakes our faith in God's justice,
when we suffer terrible consequences, solely because we did our
duty; and it seems to me bitterly hard, inscrutable, that all my
misfortunes should have come upon me thick and fast, simply because
I obeyed my mother. You, fathers, say to your children, 'Do this for
my sake,' and lovingly they spring to accomplish your wishes; and
when they are devoured by agony, and smothered by disgrace, can you
sufficiently pity them, blind artificers of their own ruin?

"Four months ago I was a very poor girl, but proud and happy,
because by my own work I could support my mother and myself. Her
health failed rapidly, and life hung upon an operation and certain
careful subsequent treatment, which it required one hundred dollars
to secure. I was competing for a prize that would lift us above
want, but time pressed; the doctor urged prompt action, and my
mother desired me to come South, see her father, deliver a letter
and beg assistance. As long as possible, I resisted her entreaties,
because I shrank from the degradation of coming as a beggar to the
man who, I knew, had disinherited and disowned his daughter.

"Finally, strangling my rebellious reluctance, I accepted the bitter
task. My mother kissed me good-bye, laid her hands on my head and
blessed me for acceding to her wishes; and so--following the finger
of Duty--I came here to be trampled, mangled, destroyed. When I
arrived, I found I could catch a train going north at 7.15, and I
bought a return ticket, and told the agent I intended to take that
train. I walked to 'Elm Bluff,' and after waiting a few moments was
admitted to Gen'l Darrington's presence. The letter which I
delivered was an appeal for one hundred dollars, and it was received
with an outburst of wrath, a flood of fierce and bitter denunciation
of my parents. The interview was indescribably painful, but toward
its close, Gen'l Darrington relented. He opened his safe or vault,
and took out a square tin box. Placing it on the table, he removed
some papers, and counted down into my hand, five gold coins--twenty
dollars each. When I turned to leave him, he called me back, gave me
the morocco case, and stated that the sapphires were very costly,
and could be sold for a large amount. He added, with great
bitterness, that he gave them, simply because they were painful
souvenirs of a past, which he was trying to forget; and that he had
intended them as a bridal gift to his son Prince's wife; but as they
had been bought by my mother's mother as a present for her only
child, he would send them to their original destination, for the
sake of his first wife, Helena.

"I left the room by the veranda door, because he bade me do so, to
avoid what he termed 'the prying of servants.' I broke some clusters
of chrysanthemums blooming in the rose garden, to carry to my
mother, and then I hurried away. If the wages of disobedience be
death, then fate reversed the mandate, and obedience exacts my life
as a forfeit. Think of it: I had ample time to reach the station
before seven o'clock, and if I had gone straight on, all would have
been well. I should have taken the 7.15 train, and left forever this
horrible place. If I had not loitered, I should have seen once more
my mother's face, have escaped shame, despair, ruin--oh! the
blessedness of what 'might have been!'

"Listen, my twelve judges, and pity the child who obeyed at all
hazards. Poor though I was, I bought a small bouquet for my sick
mother the day that I left her, and the last thing she did was to
arrange the flowers, tie them with a wisp of faded blue ribbon, and
putting them in my hand, she desired me to be sure to stop at the
cemetery, find her mother's grave in the Darrington lot, and lay the
bunch of blossoms for her upon her mother's monument. Mother's last
words were: 'Don't forget to kneel down and pray for me, at mother's
grave.'"

The voice so clear, so steady hitherto, quivered, ceased; and the
heavy lashes drooped to hide the tears that gathered; but it was
only for a few seconds, and she resumed in the same cold, distinct
tone:

"So I went on, and fate tied the last millstone around my neck.
After some search I found the place, and left the bunch of flowers
with a few of the chrysanthemums; then I hastened toward town, and
reached the station too late; the 7.15 train had gone. Too late!--
only a half hour lost, but it carried down everything that this
world held for me. I used to wonder and puzzle over that passage in
the Bible, 'The stars in their courses fought against Sisera!' I
have solved that mystery, for the stars in their courses' have
fought against me; heaven, earth, man, time, circumstances,
coincidences, all spun the web that snared my innocent feet. When I
paid for the telegram to relieve my mother's suspense, I had not
sufficient money (without using the gold) to enable me to incur
hotel bills; and I asked permission to remain in the waiting-room
until the next train, which was due at 3.05. The room was so close
and warm I walked out, and the fresh air tempted me to remain. The
moon was up, full and bright, and knowing no other street, I
unconsciously followed the one I had taken in the afternoon. Very
soon I reached the point near the old church where the road crosses,
and I turned into it, thinking that I would enjoy one more breath of
the pine forest, which was so new to me. It was so oppressively hot
I sat down on the pine straw, and fanned myself with my hat. How
long I remained there, I know not, for I fell asleep; and when I
awoke, Mr. Dunbar rode up and asked if I had lost my way. I answered
that I had not, and as soon as he galloped on, I walked back as
rapidly as possible, somewhat frightened at the loneliness of my
position. Already clouds were gathering, and I had been in the
waiting-room, I think about an hour, when the storm broke in its
fury. I had seen the telegraph operator sitting in his office, but
he seemed asleep, with his head resting on the table; and during the
storm I sat on the floor, in one corner of the waiting-room, and
laid my head on a chair. At last, when the tempest ended, I went to
sleep. During that sleep, I dreamed of my old home in Italy, of some
of my dead, of my father--of gathering grapes with one I dearly
loved--and suddenly some noise made me spring to my feet. I heard
voices talking, and in my feverish dreamy state, there seemed a
resemblance to one I knew. Only half awake, I ran out on the
pavement. Whether I dreamed the whole, I cannot tell; but the
conversation seemed strangely distinct; and I can never forget the
words, be they real, or imaginary:  "'There ain't no train till
daylight, 'cepting it be the through freight.'

"Then a different voice asked: 'When it that due?'"

"'Pretty soon I reckon, it's mighty nigh time now, but it don't stop
here; it goes on to the water tank, where it blows for the bridge.'"

'"How far is the bridge?'"

"'Only a short piece down the track, after you pass the tank.'"

"When I reached the street, I saw no one but the figure of an old
man, I think a negro, who was walking away. He limped and carried a
bundle on the end of a stick thrown over his shoulder. I was so
startled and impressed by the fancied sound of a voice once familiar
to me, that I walked on down the track, but could see no one. Soon
the 'freight' came along; I stood aside until it passed, then
returned to the station, and found the agent standing in the door.
When he questioned me about my movements; I deemed him impertinent;
but having nothing to conceal, stated the facts I have just
recapitulated. You have been told that I intentionally missed the
train; that when seen at 10 P.M. in the pine woods, I was stealing
back to my mother's old home; that I entered at midnight the bedroom
where her father slept, stupefied him with chloroform, broke open
his vault, robbed it of money, jewels and will; and that when Gen'l
Darrington awoke and attempted to rescue his property, I
deliberately killed him. You are asked to believe that I am 'the
incarnate fiend' who planned and committed that horrible crime, and,
alas for me! every circumstance seems like a bloodhound to bay me.
My handkerchief was found, tainted with chloroform. It was my
handkerchief; but how it came there, on Gen'l Darrington's bed, only
God witnessed. I saw among the papers taken from the tin box and
laid on the table, a large envelope marked in red ink, 'Last Will
and Testament of Robert Luke Darrington'; but I never saw it
afterward. I was never in that room but once; and the last and only
time I ever saw General Darrington was when I passed out of the
glass door, and left him standing in the middle of the room, with
the tin box in his hand.

"I can call no witnesses; for it is one of the terrible fatalities
of my situation that I stand alone, with none to corroborate my
assertions. Strange, inexplicable coincidences drag me down; not the
malice of men, but the throttling grasp of circumstances. I am the
victim of some diabolical fate, which only innocent blood will
appease; but though I am slaughtered for crimes I did not commit, I
know, oh! I know, that BEHIND FATE, STANDS GOD!--the just and
eternal God, whom I trust, even in this my hour of extremest peril.
Alone in the world, orphaned, reviled, wrecked for all time, without
a ray of hope, I, Beryl Brentano, deny every accusation brought
against me in this cruel arraignment; and I call my only witness,
the righteous God above us, to hear my solemn asseveration: I am
innocent of this crime; and when you judicially murder me in the
name of Justice, your hands will be dyed in blood that an avenging
God will one day require of you. Appearances, circumstances,
coincidences of time and place, each, all, conspire to hunt me into
a convict's grave; but remember, my twelve judges, remember that a
hopeless, forsaken, broken-hearted woman, expecting to die at your
hands, stood before you, and pleaded first and last--Not Guilty! Not
Guilty!--"

A moment she paused, then raised her arms toward heaven and added,
with a sudden exultant ring in her thrilling voice, and a strange
rapt splendor in her uplifted eyes:

"Innocent! Innocent! Thou God knowest! Innocent of this sin, as the
angels that see Thy face."




CHAPTER XVIII.


As a glassy summer sea suddenly quivers, heaves, billows under the
strong steady pressure of a rising gale, so that human mass surged
and broke in waves of audible emotion, when Beryl's voice ceased;
for the grace and beauty of a sorrowing woman hold a spell more
potent than volumes of forensic eloquence, of juridic casuistry, of
rhetorical pyrotechnics, and at its touch, the latent floods of pity
gushed; people sprang to their feet, and somewhere in the wide
auditory a woman sobbed. Habitues of a celebrated Salon des
Etrangers recall the tradition of a Hungarian nobleman who,
apparently calm, nonchalant, debonair, gambled desperately; "while
his right hand, resting easily inside the breast of his coat,
clutched and lacerated his flesh till his nails dripped with blood."
With emotions somewhat analogous, Mr. Dunbar sat as participant in
this judicial rouge et noir, where the stakes were a human life, and
the skeleton hand of death was already outstretched. Listening to
the calm, mournful voice which alone had power to stir and thrill
his pulses, he could not endure the pain of watching the exquisite
face that haunted him day and night; and when he computed the
chances of her conviction, a maddening perception of her danger made
his brain reel.

To all of us comes a supreme hour, when realizing the adamantine
limitations of human power, the "thus far, no farther" of relentless
physiological, psychological and ethical statutes under which
humanity lives, moves, has its being--our desperate souls break
through the meshes of that pantheistic idolatry which kneels only to
"Natural Laws"; and spring as suppliants to Him, who made Law
possible. We take our portion of happiness and prosperity, and while
it lasts we wander far, far away in the seductive land of
philosophical speculation, and revel in the freedom and
irresponsibility of Agnosticism; and lo! when adversity smites, and
bankruptcy is upon us, we toss the husks of the "Unknowable and
Unthinkable" behind us, and flee as the Prodigal who knew his
father, to that God whom (in trouble) we surely know.

Certainly Lennox Dunbar was as far removed from religious tendencies
as conformity to the canons of conventional morality and the habits
of an honorable gentleman in good society would permit; yet to-day,
in the intensity of his dread, lest the "consummate flower" of his
heart's dearest hope should be laid low in the dust, he
involuntarily invoked the aid of a long-forgotten God; and through
his set teeth a prayer struggled up to the throne of that divine
mercy, which in sunshine we do not see, but which as the soul's
eternal lighthouse gleams, glows, beckons in the blackest night of
human anguish. In boyhood, desiring to please his invalid and slowly
dying mother, he had purchased and hung up opposite her bed, an
illuminated copy of her favorite text; and now, by some subtle
transmutation in the conservation of spiritual energy, each golden
letter of that Bible text seemed emblazoned on the dusty wall of the
court-room: "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in
trouble."

When a stern reprimand from the Judge had quelled all audible
expression of the compassionate sympathy that flowed at the
prisoner's story--as the flood at Horeb responded to Moses' touch--
there was a brief silence.

Mr. Dunbar rose, crossed the intervening space and stood with his
hand on the back of Beryl's chair; then moved on closer to the jury
box.

"May it please your Honor, and Gentlemen of the Jury: Sometimes
mistakes are crimes, and he who through unpardonable rashness
commits them, should not escape 'unwhipped of justice'. When a man
in the discharge of that which he deemed a duty, becomes aware that
unintentionally he has perpetrated a great wrong, can he parley with
pride, or dally, because the haunting ghost of consistency waves him
back from the path of a humiliating reparation? Error is easy,
confession galling; and stepping down from the censor's seat to
share the mortification of the pillory, is at all times a peculiarly
painful reverse; hence, powerful indeed must be the conviction which
impels a man who prided himself on his legal astuteness, to come
boldly into this sacred confessional of truth and justice and plead
for absolution from a stupendous mistake. Two years ago, I became
Gen'l Darrington's attorney, and when his tragic death occurred in
October last, my professional relations, as well as life-long
friendship, incited me to the prompt apprehension of the person who
had murdered him. After a careful and apparently exhaustive
examination of the authenticated facts, I was convinced that they
pointed only in one direction; and in that belief, I demanded and
procured the arrest of the prisoner. For her imprisonment, her
presence here to-day, her awful peril, I hold myself responsible;
and now, gentlemen of the jury, I ask you as men having hearts of
flesh, and all the honorable instincts of manhood, which alone could
constitute you worthy umpires in this issue of life or death, do
you, can you wonder that regret sits at my ear, chanting mournful
dirges, and remorse like a harpy fastens her talons in my soul, when
I tell you, that I have committed a blunder so frightful, that it
borders on a crime as heinous as that for which my victim stands
arraigned? Wise was the spirit of a traditional statute, which
decreed that the author of a false accusation should pay the penalty
designed for the accused; and just indeed would be the retribution,
that imposed on me the suffering I have entailed on her.

"Acknowledging the error into which undue haste betrayed me, yet
confident that divine justice, to whom I have sworn allegiance, has
recalled me from a false path to one that I can now tread with
absolute certainty of success, I come to-day into this, her sacred
temple, lay my hand on her inviolate altar, and claiming the
approval of her officiating high-priest, his Honor, appeal to you,
gentlemen of the jury, to give me your hearty co-operation in my
effort to repair a foul wrong, by vindicating innocence.

"Professors of ophthalmology in a diagnosis of optical diseases,
tell us of a symptom of infirmity which they call pseudoblepsis, or
'false sight.' Legal vision exhibits, now and then, a corresponding
phase of unconscious perversion of sight, whereby objects are
perceived that do not exist, and objects present become transformed,
distorted; and such an instance of exaggerated metamorphosia is
presented to-day, in the perverted vision of the prosecution. In the
incipiency of this case, prior to, and during the preliminary
examination held in October last, I appeared in conjunction with Mr.
Wolverton, as assistant counsel in the prosecution, represented by
the Honorable Mr. Churchill, District Solicitor; the object of said
prosecution being the conviction of the prisoner, who was held as
guilty of Gen'l Darrington's death. Subsequent reflection and search
necessitated an abandonment of views that could alone justify such a
position; and after consultation with my colleagues I withdrew; not
from the prosecution of the real criminal, to the discovery and
conviction of whom I shall dedicate every energy of my nature, but
from the pursuit of one most unjustly accused. Anomalous as is my
attitude, the dictates of conscience, reason, heart, force me into
it; and because I am the implacable prosecutor of Gen'l Darrington's
murderer, _I_ COME TO PLEAD IN DEFENSE OF THE PRISONER, whom I hold
guiltless of the crime, innocent of the charge in the indictment. In
the supreme hour of her isolation, she has invoked only one witness;
and may that witness, the God above us, the God of justice, the God
of innocence, grant me the inspiration, and nerve my arm to snatch
her from peril, and triumphantly vindicate the purity of her noble
heart and life."

Remembering the important evidence which he had furnished to the
prosecution, only a few hours previous, when on the witness stand,
people looked at one another questioningly; doubting the testimony
of their own senses; and VOX POPULI was not inaptly expressed by the
whispered ejaculation of Bedney to Dyce.

"Judgment day must be breaking! Mars Lennox is done turned a double
summersett, and lit plum over on t'other side! It's about ekal to a
spavinned, ring-boned, hamstrung, hobbled horse clearin' a ten-rail
fence! He jumps so beautiful, I am afeered he won't stay whar he
lit!"

Comprehending all that this public recantation had cost a proud man,
jealous of his reputation for professional tact and skill, as well
as for individual acumen, Beryl began to realize the depth and
fervor of the love that prompted it; and the merciless ordeal to
which he would subject her. Inflicting upon himself the smarting
sting of the keenest possible humiliation, could she hope that in
the attainment of his aim he would spare her? If she threw herself
even now upon his mercy, would he grant to her that which he had
denied himself?

Dreading the consequences of even a moment's delay, she rose, and a
hot flush crimsoned her cheeks, as she looked up at the Judge.

"Is it my privilege to decide who shall defend me? Have I now the
right to accept or reject proffered aid?"

"The law grants you that privilege; secures you that right."

"Then I decline the services of the counsel who offers to plead in
my defence. I wish no human voice raised in my behalf, and having
made my statement in my own defence, I commit my cause to the hands
of my God."

For a moment her eyes dwelt upon the lawyer's, and as she resumed
her seat, she saw the spark in their blue depths leap into a flame.
Advancing a few steps, his handsome face aglow, his voice rang like
a bugle call:

"May it please your Honor: Anomalous conditions sanction,
necessitate most anomalous procedure, where the goal sought is
simple truth and justice; and since the prisoner prefers to rest her
cause, I come to this bar as Amicus Curiae, and appeal for
permission to plead in behalf of my clients, truth and justice, who
hold me in perpetual retainment. In prosecution of the real
criminal, in order to unravel the curiously knitted web, and bring
the culprit to summary punishment, I ask you, gentlemen of the jury,
to ponder dispassionately the theory I have now the honor to submit
to your scrutiny.

"The prisoner, whom I regard as the victim of my culpable haste and
deplorably distorted vision, is as innocent of Gen'l Darrington's
murder as you or I; but I charge, that while having no complicity in
that awful deed, she is nevertheless perfectly aware of the name of
the person who committed it. Not particeps crimmis, neither
consenting to, aiding, abetting nor even acquainted with the fact of
the crime, until accused of its perpetration; yet at this moment in
possession of the only clue which will enable justice to seize the
murderer. Conscious of her innocence, she braves peril that would
chill the blood of men, and extort almost any secret; and shall I
tell you the reason? Shall I give you the key to an enigma which she
knows means death?

"Gentlemen of the jury, is there any sacrifice so tremendous, any
anguish so keen, any shame so dreadful, any fate so overwhelmingly
terrible as to transcend the endurance, or crush the power of a
woman's love? Under this invincible inspiration, when danger
threatens her idol, she knows no self; disgrace, death affright her
not; she extends her arms to arrest every approach, offers her own
breast as a shield against darts, bullets, sword thrusts, and counts
it a privilege to lay down life in defence of that idol. O! loyalty
supreme, sublime, immortal! thy name is woman's love.

"All along the march of humanity, where centuries have trailed their
dust, traditions gleam like monuments to attest the victory of this
immemorial potency, female fidelity; and when we of the nineteenth
century seek the noblest, grandest type of merely human self-
abnegation, that laid down a pure and happy life, to prolong that of
a beloved object, we look back to the lovely image of that fair
Greek woman, who, when the parents of the man she loved refused to
give their lives to save their son, summoned death to accept her as
a willing victim; and deeming it a privilege, went down triumphantly
into the grave. Sustained, exalted by this most powerful passion
that can animate and possess a human soul, the prisoner stands a
pure, voluntary, self-devoted victim; defying the terrors of the
law, consenting to condemnation--surrendering to an ignominious
death, in order to save the life of the man she loves.

"Grand and beautiful as is the spectacle of her calm mournful
heroism, I ask you, as men capable of appreciating her noble self-
immolation, can you permit the consummation of this sacrifice? Will
you, dare you, selected, appointed, dedicated by solemn oaths to
administer justice, prove so recreant to your holy trust as to aid,
abet, become accessories to, and responsible for the murder of the
prisoner by accepting a stainless victim, to appease that violated
law which only the blood of the guilty can ever satisfy?

"In order to avert so foul a blot on the escutcheon of our State
judiciary, in order to protect innocence from being slaughtered, and
supremely in order to track and bring to summary punishment the
criminal who robbed and murdered Gen'l Darrington, I now desire, and
request, that your Honor will permit me to cross-examine the
prisoner on the statement she has offered in defence."

"In making that request, counsel must be aware that it is one of the
statutory provisions of safety to the accused, whom the law holds
innocent until proved guilty, that no coercion can be employed to
extort answers. It is, however, the desire of the court, and
certainly must accrue to the benefit of the prisoner, that she
should take the witness stand in her own defence."

For a moment there was neither sound nor motion.

"Will the prisoner answer such questions as in the opinion of the
court are designed solely to establish her innocence? If so, she
will take the stand."

With a sudden passionate movement at variance with her demeanor
throughout the trial, she threw up her clasped hands, gazed at them,
then pressed them ring downward as a seal upon her lips; and after
an instant, answered slowly:

"Now and henceforth, I decline to answer any and all questions. I am
innocent, entirely innocent. The burden of proof rests upon my
accusers."

As Mr. Dunbar watched her, noted the scarlet spots burning on her
cheeks, the strange expression of her eyes that glowed with
unnatural lustre, a scowl darkened his face; a cruel smile curved
his lips, and made his teeth gleam. Was it worth while to save her
against her will; to preserve the heart he coveted, for the vile
miscreant to whom she had irrevocably given it? With an upward
movement of his noble head, like the impatient toss of a horse
intolerant of curb, he stepped back close to the girl, and stood
with his hand on the back of her chair.

"In view of this palpable evasion of justice through obstinate non
responsion, will it please the Court to overrule the prisoner's
objection?"

Several moments elapsed before Judge Parkman replied, and he gnawed
the end of his grizzled mustache, debating the consequences of
dishonoring precedent--that fetich of the Bench.

"The Court cannot so rule. The prisoner has decided upon the line of
defence, as is her inalienable right; and since she persistently
assumes that responsibility, the Court must sustain her decision."

The expression of infinite and intense relief that stole over the
girl's countenance, was, noted by both judge and jury, as she sank
back wearily in her chair, like one lifted from some rack of
torture. Resting thus, her shoulder pressed against the hand that
lay on the top of the chair, but he did not move a finger; and some
magnetic influence drew her gaze to meet his. He felt the tremor
that crept over her, understood the mute appeal, the prayer for
forbearance that made her mournful gray eyes so eloquent, and a
sinister smile distorted his handsome mouth.

"The spirit and intent of the law, the usages of criminal practice,
above all, hoary precedent, before which we bow, each and all
sanction your Honor's ruling; and yet despite everything, the end I
sought is already attained. Is not the refusal of the prisoner proof
positive, 'confirmation strong as proofs of Holy Writ' of the truth
of my theory? With jealous dread she seeks to lock the clue in her
faithful heart, courting even the coffin, that would keep it safe
through all the storms of time. Impregnable in her citadel of
silence, with the cohorts of Codes to protect her from escalade and
assault, will the guardians of justice have obeyed her solemn
commands when they permit the prisoner to light the funeral pyre
where she elects to throw herself--a vicarious sacrifice for
another's sins? For a nature so exalted, the Providence who endowed
it has decreed a nobler fate; and by His help, and that of your
twelve consciences, I purpose to save her from a species of suicide,
and to consign to the hangman the real criminal. The evidence now
submitted, will be furnished by the testimony of witnesses who, at
my request, have been kept without the hearing of the Court."

He left Beryl's chair, and once more approached the jury,

"Isam Hornbuckle."

A negro man, apparently sixty years old, limped into the witness
stand, and having been sworn, stood leaning on his stick, staring
uneasily about him.

"What is your name?"

"Isam Clay Hornbuckle."

"Where do you live?"

"Nigh the forks of the road, close to 'Possum Ridge."

"How far from town?"

"By short cuts I make it about ten miles; but the gang what works
the road, calls it twelve."

"Have you a farm there?"

"Yes'ir. A pretty tolerable farm; a cornfield and potato patch and
gyarden, and parsture for my horgs and oxin, and a slipe of woods
for my pine knots."

"What is your business?"

"Tryin' to make a livin', and it keeps me bizzy, for lans is poor,
and seasons is most ginerally agin crops."

"How long have you been farming?"

"Only sence I got mashed up more 'an a year ago on the railroad."

"In what capacity did you serve when working on the road?"

"I was fireman under ingeneer Walker on the lokymotive 'Gin'l
Borygyard,' what most ginerally hauled Freight No. 2. The ingines
goes now by numbers, but we ole hands called our'n always
'Borygyard'."

"You were crippled in a collision between two freight trains?"

"Yes'ir; but t'other train was the cause of the--"

"Never mind the cause of the accident. You moved out to 'Possum
Ridge; can you remember exactly when you were last in town?"

"To be shore! I know exactly, 'cause it was the day my ole 'oman's
step-father's granny's funeral sarmont was preached; and that was on
a Thursday, twenty-sixth of October, an' I come up to 'tend it."

"Is it not customary to preach the funeral sermons on Sunday?"

"Most generally, Boss, it are; but you see Bre'r Green, what was to
preach the ole 'oman's sarmont, had a big baptizin' for two Sundays
han' runnin', and he was gwine to Boston for a spell, on the next
comin' Saddy, so bein' as our time belonks to us now, we was free to
'pint a week day."

"You are positive it was the twenty-sixth?"

"Oh, yes'ir; plum postiv. The day was norated from all the baptiss
churches, so as the kinfolks could gether from fur and nigh."

"At what hour on Thursday was the funeral sermon preached?"

"Four o'clock sharp."

"Where did you stay while in town?"

"With my son Ducaleyon who keeps a barber-shop on Main Street."

"When did you return home?"

"I started before day, Friday mornin', as soon as the rain hilt up."

"At what hour, do you think?"

"The town clock was a strikin' two, jes as I passed the express
office, at the station."

"Now, Isam, tell the Court whom you saw, and what happened; and be
very careful in all you say, remembering you are on your oath."

"I was atoting a bundle so--slung on to a stick, and it gaided my
shoulder, 'cause amongst a whole passel of plunder I had bought,
ther was a bag of shot inside, what had slewed 'round oft the
balance, and I sot down, close to a lamp-post nigh the station, to
shift the heft of the shot bag. Whilst I were a squatting, tying up
my bundle, I heered all of a suddent--somebody runnin', brip--brap--!
and up kern a man from round the corner of the stationhouse, a
runnin' full tilt; and he would a run over me, but I grabbed my
bundle and riz up. Sez I: 'Hello! what's to pay?' He was most out of
breath, but sez he: 'Is the train in yet?' Sez I: 'There ain't no
train till daylight, 'cepting it be the through freight.' Then he
axed me: 'When is that due?' and I tole him: 'Pretty soon, I reckon,
but it don't stop here; it only slows up at the water tank, whar it
blows for the Bridge.' Sez he: 'How fur is that bridge?' Sez I:
'Only a short piece down the track, after you pass the tank.' He
tuck a long breath, and kinder whistled, and with that he turned and
heeled it down the middle of the track. I thought it mighty curus,
and my mind misgive me thar was somethin' crooked; but I always
pintedly dodges; 'lie-lows to ketch meddlers,' and I went on my way.
When I got nigh the next corner whar I had to turn to cross the
river, I looked back and I seen a 'oman standin' on the track, in
front of the station-house; but I parsed on, and soon kem to the
bridge (not the railroad bridge), Boss. I had got on the top of the
hill to the left of the Pentenchry, when I hearn ole 'Bory' blow.
You see I knowed the runnin' of the kyars, 'cause that through
freight was my ole stormpin-ground, and I love the sound of that
ingine's whistle more 'an I do my gran'childun's hymn chunes. She
blowed long and vicious like, and I seen her sparks fly, as she lit
out through town; and then I footed it home."

"You think the train was on time?"

"Bound to be; she never was cotched behind time, not while I stuffed
her with coal and lightwood knots. She was plum punctchul."

"Was the lamp lighted where you tied your bundle?"

"Yes'ir, burnin' bright."

"Tell the Court the appearance of the man whom you talked with."

Mr. Dunbar was watching the beautiful face so dear to him, and saw
the prisoner lean forward, her lips parted, all her soul in the
wide, glowing eyes fastened on the countenance of the witness.

"He was very tall and wiry, and 'peared like a young man what had
parstured 'mongst wild oats. He seemed cut out for a gintleman, but
run to seed too quick and turned out nigh kin to a dead beat. One-
half of him was hanssum, 'minded me mightly of that stone head with
kurly hair what sets over the sody fountin in the drug store, on
Main Street. Oh, yes'ir, one side was too pretty for a man; but
t'other! Fo' Gawd! t'other made your teeth ache, and sot you cross-
eyed to look at it. He toted a awful brand to be shore."

"What do you mean by one side? Explain yourself carefully now."

"I dun'no as I can 'splain, 'cause I ain't never seed nothing like
it afore. One 'zact half of him, from his hair to his shirt collar
was white and pretty, like I tell you, but t'other side of his face
was black as tar, and his kurly hair was gone, and the whiskers on
that side--and his eye was drapped down kinder so, and that side of
his mouth sorter hung, like it was unpinned, this way. Mebbee he was
born so, mebbee not; but he looked like he had jes broke loose from
the conjur, and caryd his mark."

For one fleeting moment, the gates of heaven seemed thrown wide, and
the glory of the Kingdom of Peace streamed down upon the aching
heart of the desolate woman. She could recognize no dreaded
resemblance in the photograph drawn by the witness; and judge, jury
and counsel who scrutinized her during the recital of the testimony,
were puzzled by the smile of joy that suddenly flashed over her
features, like ilie radiance of a lamp lifted close to some marble
face, dim with shadows.

"Do you think his face indicated that he had been engaged in a
difficulty, in a fight? Was there any sign of blood, or anything
that looked as if he had been bruised and wounded by some heavy
blow?"

"Naw, sir. Didn't seem like sech bruises as comes of fightin'.
'Peared to me he was somehow branded like, and the mark he toted was
onnatral."

"If he had wished to disguise himself by blackening one side of his
face, would he not have presented a similar appearance?"

"Naw, sir, not by no manner of means. No minstrel tricks fotch him
to the pass he was at. The hand of the Lord must have laid too heavy
on him; no mortal wounds leave sech terrifyin' prints."

"How was he dressed?"

"Dunno. My eyes never drapped below that curus face of his'n."

"Was he bareheaded?"

"Bar headed as when he come into the world."

"He talked like a man in desperate haste, who was running to escape
pursuit?"

"He shorely did."

"Did you mention to any person what you have told here to-day?"

"I tole my ole 'oman, and she said she reckoned it was a buth mark
what the man carryd; but when I seen him I thunk he was cunjured"

"When you heard that Gen'l Darrington had been murdered, did you
think of this man and his singular behavior that night?"

"I never hearn of the murder till Christmas, 'cause I went down to
Elbert County arter a yoke of steers what a man owed me, and thar I
tuck sick and kep my bed for weeks. When I got home, and hearn the
talk about the murder, I didn't know it was the same night what I
seen the branded man."

"Tell the Court how your testimony was secured."

"It was norated in all our churches that a 'ward was offered for a
lame cullud pusson of my 'scription, and Deacon Nathan he cum down
and axed me what mischief I'de been a doin', that I was wanted to
answer fur. He read me the 'vertisement, and pussuaded me to go with
him to your office, and you tuck me to Mr. Churchill."

Mr. Dunbar bowed to the District Solicitor, who rose and cross-
examined.

"Can you read?"

"Naw, sir."

"Where is your son Deucalion?"

"Two days after I left town he want with a 'Love and Charity'
scurschion up north, and he liked it so well in Baltymore, he staid
thar."

"When Deacon Nathan brought you up to town, did you know for what
purpose Mr. Dunbar wanted you?"

"Naw, sir."

"Was it not rather strange that none of your friends recognized the
description of you, published in the paper?"

"Seems some of 'em did, but felt kind of jub'rus 'bout pinting me
out, for human natur is prone to crooked ways, and they never hearn
I perfessed sanctification."

"Who told you the prisoner had heard your conversation with the man
you met that night?"

"Did she hear it? Then you are the first pusson to tell me."

"How long was it, after you saw the man, before you heard the
whistle of the freight train?"

"As nigh as I kin rickolect about a half a hour, but not quite."

"Was it raining at all when you saw the woman standing on the
track?"

"Naw, sir. The trees was dripping steady, but the moon was shining."

"Do you know anything about the statement made by the prisoner?"

"Naw, sir."

"Fritz Helmetag."

As Isam withdrew, a middle-aged man took the stand, and in answer to
Mr. Dunbar's questions deposed: "That he was 'bridge tender' on the
railroad, and lived in a cottage not far from the water tank. On the
night of the twenty-sixth of October, he was sitting up with a sick
wife, and remembered that being feverish, she asked for some fresh
water. He went out to draw some from the well, and saw a man
standing not far from the bridge. The moon was behind a row of
trees, but he noticed the man was bareheaded, and when he called to
know what he wanted, he walked back toward the tank. Five minutes
later the freight train blew, and after it had crossed the bridge,
he went back to his cottage. The man was standing close to the
safety signal, a white light fastened to an iron stanchion at south
end of the bridge, and seemed to be reading something. Next day,
when he (witness) went as usual to examine the piers and under
portions of the bridge, he had found the pipe, now in Mr. Dunbar's
possession. Tramps so often rested on the bridge, and on the
shelving bank of the river beneath it, that he attached no
importance to the circumstance; but felt confident the pipe was left
by the man whom he had seen, as it was not there the previous
afternoon; and he put it in a pigeon-hole of his desk, thinking the
owner might return to claim it. On the same day, he had left X--to
carry his wife to her mother, who lived in Pennsylvania, and was
absent for several weeks. Had never associated the pipe with the
murder, but after talking with Mr. Dunbar, who had found the half of
an envelope near the south end of the bridge, he had surrendered it
to him. Did not see the man's face distinctly. He looked tall and
thin."

Here Mr. Dunbar held up a fragment of a long white em elope such as
usually contain legal documents, on which in large letters was
written "LAST WILL"--and underscored with red ink. Then he lifted a
pipe, for the inspection of the witness, who identified it as the
one he had found.

As he turned it slowly, the Court and the multitude saw only a
meerschaum with a large bowl representing a death's head, to which
was attached a short mouth-piece of twisted amber.

The golden gates of hope clashed suddenly, and over them flashed a
drawn sword, as Beryl looked at the familiar pipe, which her baby
fingers had so often strained to grasp. How well she knew the
ghastly ivory features, the sunken eyeless sockets--of that
veritable death's head? How vividly came back the day, when asleep
in her father's arms, a spark from that grinning skull had fallen on
her cheek, and she awoke to find that fond father bending in
remorseful tenderness over her? Years ago, she had reverently packed
the pipe away, with other articles belonging to the dead, and
ignorant that her mother had given it to Bertie, she deemed it safe
in that sacred repository. Now, like the face of Medusa it glared at
her, and that which her father's lips had sanctified, became the
polluted medium of a retributive curse upon his devoted child. So
the Diabolus ex machina, the evil genius of each human life decrees
that the most cruel cureless pangs are inflicted by the instruments
we love best.

Watching for some sign of recognition, Mr. Dunbar's heart was fired
with jealous rage, as he marked the swift change of the prisoner's
countenance; the vanishing of the gleam of hope, the gloomy
desperation that succeeded. The beautiful black brows met in a spasm
of pain over eyes that stared at an abyss of ruin; her lips
whitened, she wrung her hands unconsciously; and then, as if numb
with horror, she leaned back in her chair, and her chin sank until
it touched the black ribbon at her throat. When after a while she
rallied, and forced herself to listen, a pleasant-faced young man
was on the witness stand.

"My name is Edgar Jennings, and I live at T----, in Pennsylvania. I
am ticket agent at that point, of----railway. One day, about the
last of October (I think it was on Monday), I was sitting in my
office when a man came in, and asked if I could sell him a ticket to
St. Paul. I told him I only had tickets as far as Chicago, via
Cincinnati. He bought one to Cincinnati and asked how soon he