THE VERDICT OF THE WORLD.
Like a bolt of lightning from a summer sky came that terrible hour
into the hitherto calm existence of Eva Somerville--an hour that was
destined to change the whole current of her life, as a little rippling
brook, singing along in sunshine and shadow, between green, flowery
banks, suddenly empties into a wide, tumultuous torrent, rushing on
with irresistible force and thunderous noise to some mighty falls.
Little Eva, half dazed by the strangeness of the night’s events, and
horrified by her cousin’s sudden entrance and frenzied accusations
against her honor, had crouched down among her pillows in an agony of
alarm, unable to utter a word in self-defense until the two men clashed
in mortal combat, and the crash of the discharged revolver, filling the
room with blue smoke, assured her that murder was being done.
Instantly, and with a moan of despair, she comprehended Terry’s fatal
mistake that had driven him into murderous frenzy.
He believed that Doctor Ludington was her clandestine lover. For,
how else could he ever have chanced to be there in her room at
midnight, alone with her, a trespasser; a Ludington, a member of
that family--sworn foes to the Groves’ clan for over thirty years,
maintaining a smoldering vendetta after the deplorable fashion of some
West Virginia and Kentucky sections, a survival of the savage spirit of
their feudal ancestry.
Jealous rage fired Terry’s heart also, for Eva, even as a child, had
felt for him a subtle aversion she could never overcome, and that was
only increased in the past year by some lover-like advances he had
imprudently made.
“Poor Terry, how strange the instinct that draws him to me, while I, in
my turn, recoil from him. He is not such a bad fellow, truly,” she had
thought more than once, in girlish pity.
But he appeared to her in the light of a fiend now, as the scathing
words of his denunciation burned her cheeks with shame.
Now she comprehended her mysterious aversion to him always; a
premonition of the evil he was destined to bring into her life.
And he was murdering Doctor Ludington in cold blood; a man who had
never harmed him, who, although led into the house by a hideous
practical joke, had dared its dangers on an errand of mercy.
He was the enemy of her house, but somehow she could not forget the
tenderness of his dark-blue eyes and the wistful pleading of his
musical voice as he said:
“We have broken bread together--may we not be friends?”
And he was being murdered before her eyes. It must not be, and shriek
after shriek rang from her lips as the men fought wildly together for
possession of the revolver, while upon the light matting that covered
the floor she saw ghastly bloodstains dripping down from Ludington’s
breast.
Heedless of her little bare feet and her white night robe, she leaped
from the bed and clutched Terry’s coat, trying with all her feeble
strength to drag him off his victim, crying:
“Let him go! Let him go! He is innocent! You are a coward to shoot an
unarmed man!”
Angrily, viciously, as if she had been a feather, Terry shook off her
light hold so that she fell to the floor before gran’ther’s feet, who,
aroused by the disturbance and Eva’s shrieks, now came stumping into
the room, leaning heavily on his cane.
At the same moment Miss Tabitha and the twins, followed by several
young men, came hurrying to the scene along the dimly lighted hall.
The hay wagon, returning with its load of happy revelers, had stopped
at the gate just in time for them to hear the shot and the frenzied
shrieks of Eva following upon it.
“Heavens, what is that?” they all cried together, except the twins, who
thought they understood it, for Patty exclaimed:
“It is only Eva. She has been trying some silly Hallowe’en charms, and
has frightened herself, fancying she sees a face in the glass over her
shoulder, or some such nonsense!”
“But you forget the pistol shot! Something really must have happened.
Some of us had better go in with you and see,” said one of the young
men, so several followed them into the house.
And just as Eva fell at gran’ther’s feet they trooped in behind him and
came upon the startling scene.
They all saw how Doctor Ludington was trying to wrest the weapon from
his assailant’s hand; they all saw that, just as he grasped Terry’s
wrist, turning it aside from himself, the weapon was accidentally
discharged.
The bullet buried itself in Terry’s brain.
At the same moment the failing strength of Ludington made him lose his
grasp and the antagonists reeled apart, each sinking heavily down,
their dying groans mingling on the air of the Hallowe’en night.
The frenzied screams of the women added to the horror of the scene.
The twins had rushed to their brother’s side and knelt down by him,
quickly followed by gran’ther, who caught his hand, moaning:
“Poor Terry; poor boy! What is it all about? The fighting? My poor head
is dazed.”
He did indeed have a piteous look, as he grasped the hand that was
already growing cold in his as Terry Groves, with his eyes fast
glazing, made a supreme effort and gasped:
“I was going along the hall to my--room--heard voices--peeped in
Eva’s door--Ludington was with her--the vile hussy. To wipe--out--the
foul--stain--I shot him! I--I----”
“Oh, Terry, Terry! don’t die!” shrieked Lydia wildly.
“He’s dead!” added Patty, in awe-struck accents, as his jaw dropped and
the gray pallor of death settled on his boyish face, for he was but
one-and-twenty.
Gran’ther Groves crouched down, gazing like one turned to stone, while
the sobs and cries of the bereaved sisters, weeping in each other’s
arms, filled the room.
Meanwhile, Miss Tabitha, after the first moments of consternation, had
taken dire alarm in her maidenly bashfulness at Eva’s dishabille, and
tearing the long wrap from her own shoulders, hastily threw it around
the girl, muttering as she did so:
“Hain’t you ashamed o’ yourself, gal, walking round here in your bare
feet an’ nightgown before all these men? An’ what are them two doing in
here, this time o’ night, anyway, an’ fighting like Indians, I want to
know?”
But Eva answered nothing, and did not even seem conscious of her words
or presence, for at that moment the second horrible report of the
revolver rang in her ears like the trump of doom.
“Oh, my God, have mercy!” she cried as the combatants fell apart, each
sinking heavily to the floor with piteous, dying groans.
It seemed to her as if the point of a sword had entered her own heart,
and she threw out her arms toward heaven with that wild invocation to
her God for mercy.
As the smoke of the revolver cleared away she saw them all running
toward Terry, leaving Ludington alone, but for herself, and with a moan
of anguish she flung herself by his side.
She saw that his white shirt front was crimson with his lifeblood; that
the gray pallor of death was on his handsome face; that his blue eyes
were dim and set.
A great wave of anguish and pain, mixed with tenderness, surged over
the girl.
She bent her face close to his, and impulsively kissed his cold brow
with yearning lips, and murmured:
“Good-by, good-by! If you had lived I would have loved you!”
They heard her wild words, all of them. They used them against her
afterward.
But, as for Eva, she had forgotten all but the man who lay before her,
dying. She hardly thought that his dulled senses could comprehend her
words, but, to her surprise, his drooping lids flew open wide, and a
sort of radiant surprise and joy gleamed for a moment in his eyes, ere
they grew dim again with the mists of death.
One of the young men knelt by him and gently, closed the staring blue
eyes.
“He is gone, poor fellow!” he said gently.
All had heard Terry’s dying words, and by the verdict of the world Eva
was guilty, though pure as snow in the sight of Heaven.