BLACK DONALD'S LAST ATTEMPT.
Who can express the horror of that night,
When darkness lent his robes to monster fear?
And heaven's black mantle, banishing the light,
Made everything in fearful form appear.
--Brandon.
Let it not be supposed that Black Donald had forgotten his promise to
Colonel Le Noir, or was indifferent to its performance.
But many perilous failures had taught him caution.
He had watched and waylaid Capitola in her rides. But the girl seemed
to bear a charmed safety; for never once had he caught sight of her
except in company with her groom and with Craven Le Noir. And very soon
by eavesdropping on these occasions, he learned the secret design of
the son to forestall the father, and run off with the heiress.
And as Black Donald did not foresee what success Craven Le Noir might
have with Capitola, he felt the more urgent necessity for prompt action
on his own part.
He might, indeed, have brought his men and attacked and overcome
Capitola's attendants, in open day; but the enterprise must needs have
been attended with great bloodshed and loss of life, which would have
made a sensation in the neighborhood that Black Donald, in the present
state of his fortunes, was by no means ambitious of daring.
In a word, had such an act of unparalleled violence been attempted, the
better it succeeded the greater would have been the indignation of the
people, and the whole country would probably have risen and armed
themselves and hunted the outlaws, as so many wild beasts, with horses
and hounds.
Therefore, Black Donald preferred quietly to abduct his victim, so as
to leave no trace of her "taking off," but to allow it to be supposed
that she had eloped.
He resolved to undertake this adventure alone, though to himself
personally this plan was even more dangerous than the other.
He determined to gain access to her chamber, secrete himself anywhere
in the room (except under the bed, where his instincts informed him
that Capitola every night looked), and when the household should be
buried in repose, steal out upon her, overpower, gag and carry her off,
in the silence of the night, leaving no trace of his own presence
behind.
By means of one of his men, who went about unsuspected among the
negroes, buying up mats and baskets, that the latter were in the habit
of making for sale, he learned that Capitola occupied the same remote
chamber, in the oldest part of the house; but that a guest slept in the
room next, and another in the one opposite hers. And that the house was
besides full of visitors from the city, who had come down to spend the
sporting season, and that they were hunting all day and carousing all
night from one week's end to another.
On hearing this, Black Donald quickly comprehended that it was no time
to attempt the abduction of the maiden, with the least probability of
success. All would be risked and most probably lost in the endeavor.
He resolved, therefore, to wait until the house should be clear of
company, and the household fallen into their accustomed carelessness
and monotony.
He had to wait much longer than he had reckoned upon--through October
and through November, when he first heard of and laughed over Cap's
"duel" with Craven Le Noir, and congratulated himself upon the fact
that that rival was no longer to be feared. He had also to wait through
two-thirds of the month of December, because a party had come down to
enjoy a short season of fox-hunting. They went away just before
Christmas.
And then at last came Black Donald's opportunity! And a fine
opportunity it was! Had Satan himself engaged to furnish him with one
to order, it could not have been better!
The reader must know that throughout Virginia the Christmas week, from
the day after Christmas until the day after New-Year, is the negroes'
saturnalia! There are usually eight days of incessant dancing, feasting
and frolicking from quarter to quarter, and from barn to barn. Then the
banjo, the fiddle and the "bones" are heard from morning until night,
and from night until morning.
And nowhere was this annual octave of festivity held more sacred than
at Hurricane Hall. It was the will of Major Warfield that they should
have their full satisfaction out of their seven days' carnival. He
usually gave a dinner party on Christmas day, after which his people
were free until the third of January.
"Demmy, mum!" he would say to Mrs. Condiment, "they wait on us
fifty-one weeks in the year, and it's hard if we can't wait on
ourselves the fifty-second!"
Small thanks to Old Hurricane for his self-denial! He did nothing for
himself or others, and Mrs. Condiment and Capitola had a hot time of it
in serving him. Mrs. Condiment had to do all the cooking and housework.
And Cap had to perform most of the duties of Major Warfield's valet.
And that was the way in which Old Hurricane waited on himself.
It happened, therefore, that about the middle of the Christmas week,
being Wednesday, the twenty-eighth of December, all the house-servants
and farm laborers from Hurricane Hall went off in a body to a banjo
break-down given at a farm five miles across the country.
And Major Warfield, Mrs. Condiment and Capitola were the only living
beings left in the old house that night.
Black Donald, who had been prowling about the premises evening after
evening, watching his opportunity to effect his nefarious object, soon
discovered the outward bound stampede of the negroes, and the
unprotected state in which the old house, for that night only, would be
left. And he determined to take advantage of the circumstance to
consummate his wicked purpose.
In its then defenceless condition he could easily have mustered his
force and carried off his prize without immediate personal risk. But,
as we said before, he eschewed violence, as being likely to provoke
after effects of a too fatal character.
He resolved rather at once to risk his own personal safety in the
quieter plan of abduction which he had formed.
He determined that as soon as it should be dark he would watch his
opportunity to enter the house, steal to Cap's chamber, secrete himself
in a closet, and when all should be quiet, "in the dead waste and
middle of the night," he would come out, master her, stop her mouth and
carry her off.
When it became quite dark he approached the house, and hid himself
under the steps beneath the back door leading from the hall into the
garden, to watch his opportunity of entering. He soon found that his
enterprise required great patience as well as courage. He had to wait
more than two hours before he heard the door unlocked and opened.
He then peered out from his hiding-place and saw old Hurricane taking
his way out towards the garden.
Now was his time to slip unperceived into the house. He stealthily came
out from his hiding-place, crept up the portico stairs to the back
door, noiselessly turned the latch, entered and closed it behind him.
He had just time to open a side door on his right hand and conceal
himself in a wood closet under the stairs, when he heard the footsteps
of Old Hurricane returning.
The old man came in and Black Donald laughed to himself to hear with
what caution he locked, bolted and barred the doors to keep out
house-breakers!
"Ah, old fellow, you are fastening the stable after the horse has been
stolen!" said Black Donald to himself.
As soon as old Hurricane had passed by the closet in which the outlaw
was concealed, and had gone into the parlor, Black Donald determined to
risk the ascent into Capitola's chamber. From the description given by
his men, who had once succeeded in finding their way thither, he knew
very well where to go.
Noiselessly, therefore, he left his place of concealment and crept out
to reconnoitre the hall, which he found deserted.
Old Hurricane's shawl, hat and walking stick were deposited in one
corner. In case of being met on the way, he put the hat on his head,
wrapped the shawl around his shoulders, and took the stick in his hand.
His forethought proved to be serviceable. He went through the hall and
up the first flight of stairs without interruption; but on going along
the hall of the second story he met Mrs. Condiment coming out of Old
Hurricane's room.
"Your slippers are on the hearth, your gown is at the fire and the
kettle is boiling to make your punch, Major Warfield," said the old
lady in passing.
"Umph! umph! umph!" grunted Black Donald in reply.
The housekeeper then bade him good-night, saying that she was going at
once to her room.
"Umph!" assented Black Donald. And so they parted and this peril was
passed.
Black Donald went up the second flight of stairs and then down a back
passage and a narrow staircase and along a corridor and through several
untenanted rooms, and into another passage, and finally through a side
door leading into Capitola's chamber.
Here he looked around for a safe hiding-place--there was a high
bedstead curtained; two deep windows also curtained; two closets, a
dressing bureau, workstand, washstand and two arm chairs. The
forethought of little Pitapat had caused her to kindle a fire on the
hearth and place a waiter of refreshments on the workstand, so as to
make all comfortable before she had left with the other negroes to go
to the banjo break-down.
Among the edibles Pitapat had been careful to leave a small bottle of
brandy, a pitcher of cream, a few eggs and some spice, saying to
herself, "Long as it was Christmas time Miss Caterpillar might want a
sup of egg-nog quiet to herself, jes' as much as old marse did his
whiskey punch"--and never fancying that her young mistress would
require a more delicate lunch than her old master.
Black Donald laughed as he saw this outlay, and remarking that the
young occupant of the chamber must have an appetite of her own, he put
the neck of the brandy bottle to his lips and took what he called "a
heavy swig."
Then vowing that old Hurricane knew what good liquor was, he replaced
the bottle and looked around to find the best place for his
concealment.
He soon determined to hide himself behind the thick folds of the window
curtain, nearest the door, so that immediately after the entrance of
Capitola he could glide to the door, lock it, withdraw the key and have
the girl at once in his power.
He took a second "swig" at the brandy bottle and then went into his
place of concealment to wait events.
That same hour Capitola was her uncle's partner in a prolonged game of
chess. It was near eleven o'clock before Cap, heartily tired of the
battle, permitted herself to be beaten in order to get to bed.
With a satisfied chuckle, Old Hurricane arose from his seat, lighted
two bed-chamber lamps, gave one to Capitola, took the other himself,
and started off for his room, followed by Cap as far as the head of the
first flight of stairs, where she bade him good night.
She waited until she saw him enter his room, heard him lock his door on
the inside and throw himself down heavily into his arm chair, and then
she went on her own way.
She hurried up the second flight of stairs and along the narrow
passages, empty rooms, and steep steps and dreary halls, until she
reached the door of her own dormitory.
She turned the latch and entered the room.
The first thing that met her sight was the waiter of provisions upon
the stand. And at this fresh instance of her little maid's forethought,
she burst into a uncontrollable fit of laughter.
She did not see a dark figure glide from behind the window curtains,
steal to the door, turn the lock and withdraw the key!
But still retaining her prejudice against the presence of food in her
bed-chamber, she lifted up the waiter in both hands to carry it out
into the passage, turned and stood face to face with--Black Donald!