From that night a complete change seemed to have come upon the home of
Dutch Pugh. He had more than once determined upon putting an end to the
Cuban's stay, feeling at the same time as if he would like to end his
life; but reason told him that his were, after all, but suspicions, and
that perhaps they were unjust. Under the circumstances, he sought for
relief in work, and strove night and day to perfect the arrangements
which now fast approached completion. Captain Studwick was to be in
command of the large yacht-like schooner that had been secured, and was
being carefully fitted with the necessaries in stores and machinery.
Two of the divers engaged in raising the copper had volunteered to go,
and a capital crew had been selected. The cabins were comfortably
furnished, there being plenty of space, and places were set apart for
the captain's son and daughter, while a gentleman friend--a naturalist--
had, on learning from Captain Studwick the part of the world to which
the ship was to sail, petitioned hard, and obtained permission to go.
This last gentleman said his object was to collect specimens of the
wonderful birds of Central America; but the probabilities are that if he
had not been aware that Bessy Studwick was to be of the party, he, being
a very bad sailor, would have stayed at home.
By degrees everything necessary was put on board the handsome vessel,
and though the ship's destination was kept a secret, and the real object
of her mission confided to few, she formed the general topic of
conversation in the port, and plenty of exaggerations flew about.
The energetic way in which Dutch worked served to lull to a certain
extent the sense of pain that he endured; but he suffered bitterly; and
at last it had come to this: that he spent as little of his time at home
as possible, returning there, however, at night faint and weary, but
with a heart sickness that drove away the needful sleep.
It afforded him some gratification, though, to find that Miss Studwick
often called at his home; and when, on more than one occasion, she came
with her brother to the office, he read in her eyes the deep sympathy
that she felt for him, and asked himself why he had not made this woman
his wife.
He sat often quite late in the office, long after Rasp had grumblingly
gone off with a final stoke at the fire, which afterwards sank and died
out; and at such times, in the semi-darkness, with the goggle-eyed
helmets seeming to stare at him and rejoice in his sufferings, he asked
himself what he should do? Whether he should leave home for ever?
Whether he should put her away from him, and wait till some time in the
far-off distance of life when she might, perhaps, come to him, and ask
his pardon for the wrong she had done.
"No!" he would exclaim, "I will not believe such evil of her. She is
dazzled by this polished scoundrel, and poor, rough, I compare badly
with him, for she cannot see our hearts."
Should he end the matter at once?
No, he felt that he could not, for he had nothing but his bare, cruel
suspicions to go upon, the greatest of which was that before long Hester
would flee with this man, and his home would be wretched.
Wretched? If not wretched already, for all was wretched at home: Hester
was low-spirited; for his own part, he rarely spoke; and the Cuban
avoided him.
So far, Dutch had indulged in the hope that he might, after all, be
deceiving himself, when one evening, on entering the little drawing-room
suddenly, Hester started up, looking confused, and left the room, while
the Cuban turned away with a short nod, and walked to the window.
From that hour every spare moment was devoted to watching: for the
suspicion grew stronger now that before long, if he did not stay it, his
home would be left desolate.
This lasted for some days, when the idea was checked by Laure himself,
who, as the time approached for the departure of the expedition,
suddenly began to display great interest in the proceedings, so that
Dutch felt compelled to own that his ideas of flight must be wrong; in
fact, it was as if Laure had divined his thoughts just as he was about
to speak to Mr Parkley, and tell him his suspicions that the Cuban
evidently meant to give up the expedition, and, much as it would tear
his heart to speak, give the reasons for his belief.
Hardly, though, had he come to the conclusion that he was wrong, when a
trifle set him off back in his former way of thinking, for his mind was
now a chaos of wildering fancies, and the slightest thing set his
jealous feelings in a blaze.
He would not speak to Hester; he would not take an open, manly way of
seeing whether his suspicions were just; but, submitting his better
parts to his distorted reason, he nursed his anguish, and so it fell out
that one night he found himself watching his own house, in the full
belief that his wife's illness in the morning before he left for the
office was a subterfuge, and that the time had come for her to take some
step fatal to her future.
"But I will stop it," muttered Dutch to himself, as with throbbing pulse
and beating temples he avoided the gate, so as not to have his footsteps
heard on the gravel, and, climbing the fence, entered his own garden
like a thief.
He had hardly reached the little lawn when he heard the sound of wheels,
and stepping behind a clump of laurels he stopped, listening with
beating heart, for here was food for his suspicions.
As he expected, the fly stopped at the gate; a man in a cloak got out,
went hastily up the path, knocked softly at the door, and was admitted
on the instant.
Dutch paused, hesitating as to what he should do. Should he follow and
enter? No, he decided that he would stay there, and stop them as they
came out, for the fly was waiting.
Where would Hester be now? he asked himself, with the dimly-seen house
seeming to swim before him; and the answer came as if hissed into his
ear by some mocking fiend--
"In her bedroom, getting something for her flight."
Half-a-dozen steps over the soft grass took him where he could see the
window, and of course there was a light there, and then--
The blood seemed to rush to his brain, a horrible sense of choking came
upon him, and he groaned as he staggered back, for there, plainly enough
seen, was the figure of Hester, her hair hanging loose as she lay back
over the arm of a man, who was half-leading, half-carrying her towards
the door.
All this in shadow was sharply cost upon the blind, and with a groan of
mingled rage and misery Dutch rushed towards the house, but only to
totter and fall heavily, for it was as though a sharp blow had been
dealt him, and for some time he lay there passive and ignorant of what
passed around.
He recovered at length, and lay trying to think--to call to mind what
this meant. Why was he lying there on the wet grass, with this strange
deathly feeling of sickness upon him?
Then all came back with a rush, and he rose to his feet to see that the
light was still in the bedroom, but the shadows were gone.
With a cry of horror he ran to the gate, but the carriage was not there,
and he stood listening.
Yes, there was the sound of wheels dying away. No, they had stopped,
and he was about to rush off in pursuit when a hasty step coming in his
direction stayed him, for he knew it well, and, drawing back, he let the
Cuban pass him, then followed him softly as he stole round the house,
going on tiptoe towards the dining-room window, where Dutch caught him
by the shoulder.
"Ah," he said, laughing, "so our gallant Englishman is on the watch, is
he? Does the jealous trembler think I would steal his wife?"
"Dog!" hissed Dutch, catching him by the throat, "what are you doing
here?"
"What is that to you, fool!" exclaimed the Cuban, flashing into rage.
"Loose me, you madman, or you shall repent it. Curse you, you are
strong."
Blind to everything but his maddening passion, kept back now for so many
days, and absorbed by the feeling that he could now wreak his vengeance
upon the man who had wrecked his home, Dutch savagely tightened his hold
upon his adversary, who, though a strong man, bent like a reed before
him. It was no time for reason to suggest that he might be wrong; the
idea had possession of the young man's soul that he was stopping an
intended flight, and he drove the Cuban backwards, and had nearly forced
him across a garden seat when Laure, writhing like an eel, got partly
free.
"Curse your English brute strength!" he muttered, and getting his arm
from his cloak, he struck Dutch full on the temple with some weapon, and
the young man fell once more prone on the grass.