CHAPTER XXXIV.
"MY BRIDE OR THE BRIDE OF DEATH!"
"And like Communists, as mad, as disloyal,
My fierce emotions roam out of their lair;
They hate King Reason for being loyal,
They would fire his castle and burn him there.
O, Love, they would clasp you, and crush you, and kill you,
In the insurrection of control....
And there is no fear, and hell has no terror
To change or alter a love like mine."—E. W. W.
Precious hastened to the nearest milliner's from Madame La Mode's, and having matched the ribbons desired, sent them by messenger to the modiste. Her plausible errand thus dispatched, she covered her lovely face and hair with a thick black lace veil, and hastened to the address Ethel had given her, eager to dispatch her mission of kindness, and to get away as soon as possible from the poverty-stricken and unfamiliar neighborhood. She was as dainty as a princess, our pretty Precious, and could not help finding poverty repulsive.
So her aristocratic little nose was quite high in the air as she stepped across the threshold of the vile-smelling tobacco shop, and approaching a parchment-faced, bewigged old woman, much bent with age, queried timorously:
"Does Hetty Wilkins live here?"
The old shopwoman eyed her closely through immense goggle glasses, then answered gruffly:
"Certainly she lives here; but you beant the young gal she wore expectin'. She had black eyes and hair."
"I am her sister. She sent me, because she was sick and could not come herself. May I see Hetty at once, please?" asked Precious in a depressed voice, for the squalor of the place lowered her girlish spirits unconsciously.
"In course you may see her; but she's very bad to-day, and I don't think she'll live long," was the curt reply, as the woman closed the shop door, placed a bar across it, and then turned to explain:
"I have to shut the door when I go upstairs to Hetty, because the bad boys will come in and steal everything."
She led the way through a back room up a dark, narrow stairway with a door at the foot of it, to a small, close-smelling bedroom as squalid as the rest of the place. There, on a hard bed, among soiled pillows, lay the once pretty, coquettish Hetty, who had been so anxious to marry above her station.
Poor Hetty! there was no mistake in her claim that she was dying of a broken heart, for anguish was stamped on the wan, haggard features and gleamed out of the sunken eyes beneath the tangled locks of hair that strayed neglected over her ashen brow.
"There's Hetty, lady, and I hope you'll stay a long time and talk to her, she's so lonesome a-layin' here all day by herself," croaked the grandmother, pushing a chair to the bedside. Then she lumbered heavily downstairs again, coolly locking the door at the foot.
Then she closed up the shop for the day, after putting a sign in the window to that effect. The next move was to ascend to another room, where her worthy son was shaving off his beard and arraying his very good figure in purple and fine linen, hoping to propitiate his expected guest.
"She's here!" she chuckled significantly, and he gave a cry of joy.
"Good! She shall not escape me again."
"She's in Hetty's room. You better hurry! That girl will tell tales."
"No matter what she tells, it cannot alter my lady's fate. My bride or the bride of death, she shall be ere tomorrow's dawn! I am desperate with suspense and thwarted love. Life without that girl can no longer be borne. We must live together or die together, as she wills to-day!"
His eyes gleamed with something almost like madness, but the woman did not try to dissuade him from the terrible purpose he had expressed. She knew from the experience of long months how futile she would find such an effort.
When beautiful Precious, in her rustling silks and laces, bent over the sick girl with compassionate eyes, Hetty started in surprise and horror, muttering feebly:
"Is that you, Miss Precious, or am I dreaming? This morphine they give me makes me have strange dreams sometimes."
"Poor Hetty!" and the soft little hand brushed the straggling locks from the fevered brow. "Yes, it is Precious. My sister was ill, and could not come to see you, as she promised, so she sent me to bring you some money for wine and dainties," and Precious poured the little shower of golden coin out upon the thin counterpane.
Hetty's big hollow eyes dilated wildly, and she gasped:
"There's some mistake. Miss Ethel didn't promise to come here. I haven't seen or heard of her since the time I went to her and she gave me money. Oh, Miss Precious, everything ain't right about this! You've been fooled into coming here, you sweet lamb, and Lindsey Warwick must be at the bottom of it. Oh, the fiend! How dare he do it? You're in deadly peril, poor child, and you must go away at once, if you can. There! run down the steps, get away from this vile place as fast as you can!"
Precious flew to do her bidding, but she found the door locked against her.
Ghastly pale and trembling, she sank into the chair beside Hetty.
"You are right. I'm trapped, for the door is already locked!" she gasped; then exclaimed: "Oh, Hetty, Hetty, is it true? Is Lindsey Warwick here?"
"Yes, poor child, it is true. Oh, Lord, spare me breath to tell her all the truth! Oh, Miss Precious, you know how foolish I was about my beau that was courting me when your mother sent me off? She was right. He was Lindsey Warwick, but I believed in him. I thought he was Watson Hunter, as he said he was. When I came to Washington I found him out. He was living here, and I taxed him with being the drawing-master, but he denied it. He swore he loved me, and brought a preacher here and married me. At least I thought he was a preacher, Miss Precious, and believed myself an honest wife. Oh, my Lord! my Lord! how my life has been ruined by that devil!" groaning. "Oh, my dearie, my innocent dove, he led me a dog's life, but I stuck to him all the while with devotion, doing everything he bade me, even to blackmailing poor Miss Ethel and stripping her of money for his sake! At last, when I refused to go back again, he beat me cruelly and told me I wasn't his wife. It was a sham, that marriage. He only courted me to find out things about you to get you into his power again, and he would have you soon, for he'd make your sister help him. Then I fell down, dead, I hoped, but after awhile I came to, lying on this bed, ill, and too weak ever to rise from it again, dying by inches of neglect, privation, and despair. And now, my poor, innocent little one, he has got you in his power, and whatever is to become of you I cannot tell."
The door opened softly and a mocking voice replied:
"I can tell you the end, Hetty. We will get married and live happy ever after."
"Lindsey Warwick!" shrieked Precious wildly.
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE CAPTIVE'S BRAVERY
"Granted the odds are against us, granted we enter the field
When Fate has fought and conquered, broken our sword and shield;
What then? Shall we ask for quarter or say that our work is done?
Nay, rather a greater glory is ours if the field be won!"
Lindsey Warwick only smiled at the frantic cry of Precious, and sitting down coolly in a seat quite close to her he said insolently:
"So we meet again, my beautiful, obdurate love."
Her beautiful blue eyes flashed on him with such supreme scorn that the craven might have quailed before them, but neither her anger nor the hollow, accusing eyes of poor Hetty moved him in the least. He maintained a front of the most insolent composure.
"I demand that you release me at once or you will suffer dearly for this outrage!" Precious exclaimed in a choking voice.
He smiled, and his insolent eyes seemed to gloat on her pearl-fair beauty.
"You amuse me, but you do not frighten me at all," he replied, laughing.
"And yet you have need to be frightened," Precious answered in a solemn voice, growing very pale as she spoke.
He did not notice the peculiar significance of her voice, but throwing himself back in his chair with an expression of arrogance observed:
"I am sorry you object so much to have me for your husband, for I have sworn to make you my wife or to kill you!"
The beautiful girl sitting close to poor, gasping Hetty, answered him with a look of silent scorn.
"It is true," he continued, "I love you madly, and I have sworn to win you. I know the distance seems great to you between the poor drawing-master and the petted daughter of Senator Winans, but love has often bridged gulfs as deep. Once we are married your parents will forgive you, and your father can easily give me a lucrative Government position that will place me on a high social footing. You see how easy it all is, as I told your sister at the masquerade ball last night."
A startled cry came from her pale lips, and he laughed:
"Yes, I was there, and often near you, for, like your sister, I was jealous of the attentions of handsome King Arthur, who hovered so often near the princess. Do you remember the knight who tried to make love to you, and on whom you turned a cold shoulder? Your sister was not so unkind to me. We had a long talk in the conservatory, and she helped me plan this little scheme that placed you in my power."
Oh, the cry of agony that came from those lovely lips at his words! They pierced poor Hetty's heart with their doubt and pain!
"You speak falsely! My sister Ethel would not be so cruel!"
"Your sister Ethel had no choice. I held the secret of her desertion of you in the burning house that day—the secret you kept at her bidding! She dare not let it be known, for she knew that she was guilty of desiring your death, because she was jealous of you."
Hetty moaned feebly:
"Don't you believe him, Miss Precious. Miss Ethel would not be so wicked. It was the old woman, his mother, that set fire to the house and ran away, hoping you would both be burned up."
"Hold your tongue!" Lindsey Warwick said, glaring fiercely at the invalid. "What my mother did does not excuse the sin of Ethel Winans. She escaped from the fire and ran away, giving no alarm to let any one know that Precious was left to an awful fate. She is afraid to let the world know it, and when I threatened to betray her she paid the price of my silence by sacrificing her sister."
Everything rushed over Precious. She could not doubt that her proud, jealous sister hated her with an envious rage. It was like a sword in her tender heart.
"Oh, Heaven! I would sooner have died than heard this hideous truth!" she moaned, and the fair golden head sank until it rested on Hetty's coarse pillow, while the white lids drooped heavily over the violet eyes.
Lindsey Warwick sprang eagerly forward, but Hetty motioned him sternly back.
"You sha'n't touch her, you fiend, unless by her own consent, and I know you'll never get that! So go out and leave her to herself."
He laughed arrogantly in his consciousness of power and answered:
"Very well, I'll leave her alone a few moments to get used to her position; but no plotting for her escape, remember, for there are bolts and bars on every door and window; and none of the neighbors could hear her scream, if she tried it all day. You know that by your own experience. So you had just as well do me a good turn by persuading her to marry me without more trouble. You didn't find it hard to love me, so why should she?"
The look of scornful reproach she gave him might have shamed a fiend, but he only laughed and went out, shutting the door behind him.
"Miss Precious, look up, darling—he's gone now; look up, and don't grieve. Maybe something will happen, maybe Miss Ethel will repent and send your father to take you from Lindsey Warwick. Oh, I wish I had a good revolver; I'd shoot him like a dog, and let you go free! My life's going out fast, anyway, and I'd not mind paying off my score against him!"
Precious lifted up a pale, haggard face, murmuring:
"Oh, no, no, Hetty; you must not die with the sin of murder on your soul. Listen, while I whisper in your ear: I have a splendid little revolver in my pocket. Papa gave it to me after—that night last summer, you know. He taught me to use it, and told me to always carry it when I went out alone, and to defend myself with it, if necessary. So don't worry over me, Hetty; I will kill him if there is no other way of escape!"
But she shuddered, and grew so pale that Hetty muttered:
"Let me have it, dearie, and I'll do the deed for you quick enough!"
"No," Precious answered; and just then the door opened and the old woman came in, leering hideously at the hapless prisoner.
Precious rose from her chair, and catching the old woman's arm, suddenly asked imploringly:
"Won't you be good enough to open those doors, and let me go home to my mother?"
"Couldn't do it for nothing. My son's orders is to keep his pretty bird close!" was the chuckling reply.
Hetty half-raised herself in bed, and gazed curiously at the pair. Something in the white, resolute face of Precious prepared her for a startling denouement.
She saw the girl's hand slide into the folds of her dress and out again. The next moment Hetty's eyes were dazed by the gleam of a small silver-mounted revolver, whose muzzle pressed the old woman's temple.
"Open the doors and let me go free, or I will kill you! Not a word, or I fire!" breathed the desperate girl, low and distinctly.
The old woman was a coward at heart. She almost fainted from fear, and, forgetting her son's interests in her own deadly fears, put her shaking hand in her pocket and withdrew the key without one word, as she was bidden.
Precious and the eager, watching Hetty began to think that victory would be easy.
"Now open the doors, and I will follow you until I reach the street. Do not speak, or I shall certainly shoot you," continued Precious sternly, still covering the bent, cowering form with the lifted weapon.
Scarcely daring to breathe, the foiled hag pushed the key in the lock, turned it sharply and opened the door.
"Go on down the steps while I follow," commanded Precious hoarsely, and still keeping her weapon close to the bewigged head, while she wondered at her own desperate bravery and silently prayed Heaven to keep Lindsey Warwick away until she gained her freedom.
But it was not to be. The villain rushed upon his own fate.
Just as his mother placed her foot on the first step to descend, he entered by an opposite door.
That suggestive tableau, his mother on the step, Precious in the open doorway above, covering her descent with a revolver, flashed upon his sight. He instantly comprehended the truth. His prisoner, with an undreamed of bravery, was fighting her way to freedom, and the cowed old woman was permitting herself to be driven to submission.
With the howl of a baffled wild beast, the startled villain rushed forward and struck back the little hand that held the weapon, perhaps with some faint impulse of filial alarm for the old mother who seemed in such deadly peril.
But his aim was misdirected or rash. The weapon dropped indeed from the little hand that grasped it, but as he bent forward it fell upon the step and exploded, and the bullet, whistling as it ascended, struck him beneath the chin, crashing upward to his burning brain. He sprang convulsively erect, then toppled backward in a lifeless heap, dead as suddenly as though by a lightning stroke.
At the same instant the old woman, jarred from her position on the steps by his sudden onslaught, lost her balance and fell, rolling over and over the steep narrow stairs until her body bounded against the locked door at the foot with a terrible velocity that broke her neck.
Thus two wicked wretches were hurled at a breath into the presence of an offended God, to be judged and condemned for the deeds done while they dwelt on earth.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
"ARE YOU GLAD THAT REVENGE LIES IN YOUR HANDS?"
"Some there must be who must bear the burden and the loss;
Some there must be who must wear the thorny crown and cross.
"Some there must be who must lay their hopes the altar on;
Some there must be who must say, 'Thy will, not mine, be done!'"
—Susie M. Best.
A desperate courage upheld Precious through that tragic scene, but at its fatal denouement she rushed back to Hetty, falling on her knees by the bed, and bursting into convulsive sobs.
And for a moment no other sound filled the room, for the sick girl, struck dumb by the suddenness of it all, could not utter a word, only lie still among her pillows breathing in great strangling gasps, like one dying. For those other two, they lay still and voiceless, stricken down in the fullness of their evil career, just as victory in their evil designs seemed assured. But she, the innocent victim of their persecution, sobbed on, distressfully, in the revulsion of feeling from fear and desperation, to relief mixed with shuddering horror at the fate of her enemies.
Suddenly Hetty began to recover her dazed senses, and moving a trembling hand touched Precious gently.
"My dear, my dear, don't sob so hard. Try to collect yourself and listen to me," she breathed faintly, and the nervous girl lifted her head, murmuring:
"Oh, Hetty, Hetty, can't we get out of this horrid place? I'm stifling, dying almost of fear and horror."
"Yes, we will get away as soon as possible," and Hetty with sudden strength crawled out of bed and dragged on her clothes.
"Now, my dear young lady, I have a plan for you," she panted. "You must not be known at all in this dreadful affair, for it would make a dreadful sensation very unpleasant to your folks. Here is my plan: There is a side entrance on an alleyway to this place, and I'll creep down and let you out of it. Then you must go away quietly back to your home, and say nothing, unless you choose to confide in your parents. I'll stay indoors awhile, then I'll creep out in the street and give the alarm that my husband and his mother have killed themselves scuffling over a handsome revolver. No one need ever know anything more, for they cannot doubt my story. The neighbors all believe that I was Warwick's wife, as I should have been. So go now, dear, and Heaven bless you, poor child."
Her poor face was already beaded with death-dew, and she staggered so that she had to cling to Precious as they made their way down to the alley, just inside the door that she was to go out by. Precious paused and looked anxiously into the ghastly face with its glassy eyes.
"Oh, Hetty, you do look so ill! I can't bear to leave you like this. I shall tell mamma, and we will have you cared for kindly."
"Thank you, thank you, dear Miss Precious, but don't worry over me. I'll soon be all right. Now go, for every moment you stay is perilous."
"Bless you, Hetty, for your goodness to me. I shall tell mamma about it. She will be so grateful, and we will do everything for you. Now good-by, and God keep you till we meet again."
She pressed the cold, damp hand fervently, and hurried away, little dreaming that it was a dying woman she left, and that her fervent "God keep you till we meet again," meant for all eternity.
With the thick veil over her face, she darted unobserved out of the noisome alley, gained the street, and turned the very first corner into a side street. Ten minutes of rapid walking brought her back to Madame La Mode's, where the carriage still waited, although she had been gone almost two hours. The obsequious footman helped her in, and she sank half-fainting among the cushions.
"Saved! Saved!" she thought, with silent gratitude to Heaven as the carriage rolled homeward, and she wondered bitterly what Ethel would say on her return and escape from the fate at which she had connived.
"Ah! my sister, to whose happiness I sacrificed my own, how could you be so cruel?" she wept convulsively.
Meanwhile the dying Hetty, too weak to walk, crawled through the narrow alleyway out to the street, a most pitiable object with her wasted form, ghastly face, and glassy eyes already dim with approaching death. Very soon a crowd collected about her, to whom she told an incoherent story that her husband and his mother, while struggling over a revolver, had both come to their deaths. Then having exhausted her feeble strength in explaining the tragedy, the poor creature's head drooped heavily, and with one or two convulsive gasps her spirit fled from its earthly tenement.
The evening papers, in glaring head-lines, told the story of the tragedy enacted in the humble tobacco shop, and did not fail to add that the man had been discovered to be the notorious Lindsey Warwick, who had abducted Senator Winans' youngest daughter from the Inauguration Ball, and for whose apprehension the statesman had offered ten thousand dollars. It was added that he had afterward married a girl in his own rank, and had beaten her so cruelly that she had never been able to leave her bed since, and had now died of her injuries.
Some relatives of poor unfortunate Hetty came forward, claimed her body, and buried her decently. Lindsey Warwick and his mother were interred at public expense, and when those three died there was but one living soul that held the secret that lay so darkly on Ethel's conscience—the secret that twice she had betrayed her innocent sister to a terrible fate from which the mercy of Heaven had delivered her safely. At last Precious knew all her sister's guilt. Would she take revenge for her wrongs by denouncing Ethel?
She reached home with a prayer of thanksgiving on her lips, so glad of its peace and security again after the perils of the last few hours; but as soon as she crossed the threshold she saw that there was an unwonted commotion and excitement about the house.
"Have they missed me already? Have they found out anything?" she thought in alarm; but directly she heard the servants confiding to each other that Miss Winans had been taken dangerously ill, and that the wedding now so very near at hand would have to be postponed, they feared.
Then Norah came to meet her pet.
"Oh, my dear, how ill and pale you look! What has happened to you?" she demanded anxiously.
"Oh, Norah, they are saying that Ethel is very ill!" faltered Precious, and when she reached her own room she sank tremblingly upon a sofa.
"Miss Ethel has an attack of hysteria," explained Norah. "She had a long swoon, and when she revived went into wild hysterics. The doctor and your mother are with her now, and when I came out awhile ago she was shrieking for you as though she thought you were in the greatest danger somewhere. I think if you will go in and see her that the sight of you will do her good."
"I will go at once!" cried Precious eagerly, and glided pale as death into the sick-room, her heart beating with great strangling throbs of emotion.
She crossed the floor to the bed, and saw Ethel writhing among the pillows like one distraught, her dark eyes glaring wildly on the anxious faces around her, while from her ashen lips came over and over one yearning cry:
"Precious! Oh, bring Precious home!"
When Precious heard that entreating cry she felt that Ethel had repented of her sin, that she was not as wicked as she had tried to be. The knowledge brought keenest joy to her heart.
"Oh, Ethel, dear sister, I am here!" she cried in a voice of heavenly forgiveness.
Until that moment Ethel had seemed not to recognize any one, had called no one but her sister, but as that sweet voice came to her ears she looked up with a wild cry and clasped Precious in her arms.
"Oh, my darling, you are safe! You have come back to me!" she cried, and fainted for the third time that morning.
"She has had some strange hallucination about her sister, but she will be better now," said the physician, and he was right, for when she recovered she was calmer, the light of reason shone in her dark eyes.
"I am better now. You may all go away but Precious. I want her to stay by me a little while," she murmured faintly.
They all withdrew but Precious, to whom she clung with eager hands.
When they were alone they looked eagerly into each other's eyes, and Ethel saw that Precious knew all. A deep and heavy sigh breathed over her lips, and she murmured:
"You have escaped your enemies, thank Heaven! Nothing else matters now, but tell me how it all happened."
And the trembling Precious, in low, agitated whispers, told her all that had transpired except Hetty's death, of which she did not yet know.
Ethel listened in silent joy. She rejoiced in the death of her enemies, and she realized that her guilty secret belonged to no one now but Precious. In those small, white hands rested her fate.
Her dark, anguished eyes searched the pale, lovely face with eager inquiry, and she faltered:
"You know all my sins against you now, Precious—all my envious hate and jealousy. Are you glad that revenge lies in your hands?"
"Revenge!" exclaimed Precious, and Ethel answered:
"You will betray me now to Arthur, to papa and mamma, to the whole world!"
Precious looked searchingly into the dark eyes, circled with heavy purplish rings since morning.
"My sister, do you repent?" she asked solemnly.
"Repent! Ah, Heaven, I should have died or gone mad if harm had come to that little golden head!" breathed Ethel huskily.
"And you will never hate me any more?" sighed Precious.
"Never! never!"
"Then let us speak no more of that wicked thing—revenge. Try to be good after this, dear sister; try to be worthy of Arthur, and I will forgive you everything," noble little Precious answered, sealing the promise of forgiveness with a gentle kiss.
"You are an angel!" sighed Ethel from her overburdened heart, and drew from under her pillow the sealed letter she had sent to Madame La Mode's by the maid.
"Read this and you will see how soon I repented of my sin!" she said eagerly, and when Precious had read it through her blue eyes filled with tears and she cried:
"I am glad you repented so soon, and if I had not left the modiste's in such a hurry to perform a charitable deed I would have received your message in time to have been prevented from going."
They talked earnestly together some time longer, and it was decided to keep to themselves the story of that morning's adventure. Poor Ethel, she still clung to Arthur and the hope of becoming his wife, and in the safety insured by Lindsey Warwick's death and her sister's forgiveness, she thought that no further obstacle could come between her and happiness. Although sincerely repentant for her cruelty to Precious, the leaven of selfishness still worked in her nature, and she could not resign the joy within her reach—the joy of becoming Arthur's wife, and trying to win back his heart.