THE INTERVIEW--THE PLOT--THE ABDUCTION.
Before proceeding to extremities, Duffel resolved to try the effect of
smooth words and persuasive eloquence on the mind of Eveline. For this
purpose he called upon her with the express intention of urging his claims
to her hand in a personal interview. She received him, as she had been
accustomed to do of late, with cold politeness. Had he been a real lover,
actuated by pure motives, he would have been deterred from prosecuting his
suit, or even mentioning the object of his visit, for he could not but
perceive that he was not warmly received. But he had resolved upon a course
of action, and was determined that nothing should influence him to turn
aside from the line of conduct he had marked out for himself. After a
little conversation on commonplace matters, he attempted to introduce the
subject uppermost in his thoughts, but finding no encouragement, addressed
his companion thus:
"Why this coldness, Miss Mandeville? would that I dared to call you,
Eveline! You have ears for others, for me you have none; you have smiles
for others, but on me you never bestow a gladdening look; and yet, of all
the world, I most long for a smile, for the privilege to talk to you as a
friend."
"I hope I have always treated you with kindness; it has certainly been my
intention to do so."
"No, Miss Mandeville, not with _kindness_, pardon me, but it has only been
with cold civility. I am sure that if you only knew how my heart yearns for
a gentle and hopeful word from your adored lips, how it bleeds and recoils
within my bosom when your cold words pierce it as with an arrow, you would
certainly relent."
"The heart, Mr. Duffel, is not master of its own emotions; they come
unbidden often, and not unfrequently remain when we would gladly have them
depart."
"May I trust that in those words there is hope for me--that you would
really banish old memories and old prejudices, and receive me as my heart
continually pleads to be received?"
"I am not aware that any such changes as those of which you speak have
taken place in my mind or memory. I have no old and dear memories that I
wish to banish; and I believe my feelings toward you have not materially
changed."
"Oh, what crushing words! Surely your heart cannot be so hard as to drive
me away in despair, when my spirit is bleeding at the wounds your cruel
words have made."
"As I was saying, when you were so impetuous as to interrupt me, a few
moments ago, we cannot bid our feelings go and come as we would. The heart
will not love this one or that, at the dictates of cold, calculating
intellect, and the more it is urged to do so, the farther it is from
yielding, especially when harsh means or commands are used to bend it. If
you have permitted your feelings to rest upon me as you say they do, it is
your misfortune, not my fault; and because I cannot reciprocate your
feelings and wishes, you have no right to task me with cruelty or
hard-heartedness; and I hope you will not forget this in any future remarks
you may have to make on the subject."
"Pardon me, my dear Miss Mandeville, if, in the bitterness of my
disappointment, I have spoken harsh or unguarded words. When we are in deep
distress and anxiety we are apt to say and do things that we should not. It
was farthest from my design to wound your gentle heart, or say one
ungenerous word to you, the best beloved of my friends. Should you ever
have the misfortune to endure the pangs of unrequited love, which may
Heaven forbid, you will know how to feel for me, and to appreciate my
situation."
"Perhaps it would be well for you to cease conversing on a subject so
painful."
"Ah, there it is. Great sorrows are uppermost in the mind, and though every
word brings a tear to the eye, and sends a pang to the heart, we _must_
talk about them."
"I was always impressed with the idea that such griefs as lay hold upon the
soul, were too deep for utterance."
"Yes, when the last ray of hope is gone, and the night of despair settles
upon the soul. But, oh, must I go out into that unillumed darkness, forever
shut out from light and hope? Is there no hope that I may some day call you
more than friend? that in time, even though it be years in the future, I
may be able to awaken emotions of tenderness in your heart?"
"I think I have answered that question often enough and plain enough. I do
not know why you wish to put me to the unpleasant necessity of repeating
that answer. But if I have, by any misconception of the use of words, and
the meaning of language, failed to be sufficiently definite in my speech,
please now, once for all, understand me distinctly. I cannot bid you hope
for any change in my feelings toward you so far as love is concerned. I
never can look upon you as an accepted suitor for my hand, nor will it ever
be in my power to love you."
"Perhaps you may think differently hereafter."
"Never!"
"Then my purpose is fixed. You shall not wed another! You, too, shall feel
what it is to be disappointed. You love Charles Hadley. Ah, I knew you did!
but mark me, you shall never wed him--_never_! I would sooner imbrue my
hands in his blood, than that you should! But he is a guilty culprit, a
wandering fugitive from justice, and will never dare return."
"Mr. Duffel, I have heretofore borne your persecutions with patience; I
will do so no longer. _You_, sir, are more guilty this day than Charles
Hadley. Look at the blood spots on your hand."
"What! ha! said the villain, taken aback by the bold remark.
"Yes, you may well flush and turn pale when your crimes stare you in the
face!"
"Crimes? Who dares to accuse me of crimes?"
"I do, sir!"
"You will repent it, madam."
"I do not fear your threats any more than I regard your hypocritical
protestations of esteem."
"I will make you fear, then," and with the words he left the house in a
rage.
While together, Eveline and Duffel were both defiant, though they felt
internal fear of each other, she at his threats, and he in alarm lest she
should know something of his secret villainies; and when alone each gave
way to the feelings uppermost in the mind; she after this manner:
"God grant that no harm come to Charles from this wicked plotter! And yet I
fear he has already contrived to do him mischief. How he was agitated when
I threw out the accusation. Oh, my God! if his hands really are stained
with innocent blood! Charles is no where to be found; what if he has fallen
by the hands of his enemy? What a terrible suspicion! Would to Heaven I
knew the truth!"
But the more she thought the more she feared, until the subject became so
painful she tried to banish it from her mind.
Infuriated and alarmed, Duffel raged on this wise when alone:
"It's all over now! this palaver about love and money! I shall never win my
way to the old man's purse in that manner; but I'll try my skill at taming
that proud, free spirit! Blast the girl! I wonder if she knows anything?
But pshaw! what a thought! How could she?--What a fool I was to be so
startled!--Well she is shrewd, and I give her credit for her penetration;
but she must not be left to surmise and publish her suspicions: I've too
much on hand just now to be set upon by spies; and so the sooner I get her
out of the way the better. Once in my power I'll see that she tells nothing
to my hurt.--Oh, but won't I have a glorious time!--But enough of
anticipation; I must be up and doing lest the captain return and spoil all
my calculations; so now for my precious rascals, Bill and Dick--and
then!--" And with this he started for the "swamp."
When Duffel reached the place of meeting, his accomplices were not there,
and he sat himself down on the trunk of a fallen tree to ruminate until
they should come. As was customary with him under such circumstances, his
thoughts commenced running on schemes of villainy; and he became so deeply
absorbed in fitting out the details of his present all-absorbing operation,
as to be scarcely conscious of anything else, either as regarded time or
place. At length his corrugated brow relaxed, a kind of sardonic smile of
joy spread over his countenance, and he exclaimed in gleeful elation of
spirit:
"I have it! By Jove! it's the crowning cap on the climax! I have been
afraid of the consequences until now, for I know old Mandeville will raise
earth and hell when he finds his daughter is missing. But now I have him!
What a glorious idea! But it is a wonder I had not thought of it before.
Well, it will not be the first time a dead man has served a good purpose!"
At this moment Bill and Dick made their appearance, and he immediately
opened business with them.
"Well, you are here at last! I have been waiting on you this half-hour!"
"If it please your honor we are here at the appointed time. You must have
some urgent business to be done that you are in such haste?"
"I have. The time has come that I shall need your service in the matter on
hand. Miss Mandeville is in the habit of visiting the spot I pointed out to
you, daily. To-morrow her father is going to C---- and there will be no one
at home but the daughter and the house girl. You must be in waiting as
agreed upon. You, Bill, must cautiously approach her and represent yourself
as the friend of Hadley, for whom you must be the bearer of a message. If
that does not succeed, then you must have recourse to the other means, as
already arranged. So soon as you get her fairly in your possession and
secured, bear her to the cave, with all dispatch, by the secret route. I
will meet you on the way."
"All right. We understand the plan, and will take good care that it be
properly carried out; but afterward we shall expect your aid, or at least
your non-interference in a little affair of our own."
"Oh, certainly. Go ahead; but don't make a fuss about it. Who is she?"
"Oh, dang the women, we don't meddle with them; it is with Duval that we
have an account to settle."
"Be careful there! Remember your oath to the order!"
"We do; but he is a traitor, and if you expect us to work for you in such
life-taking business as we have lately been engaged in, you must let us
have our way in this instance."
"Very well; if you will be cautious and commit no others but yourselves I
shall not oppose you."
"We'll take care on that point."
"Remember to-morrow."
"Never fear. She shall be yours before the setting of the sun."
Again the villains parted; but Duffel was not well pleased with the demand
the ruffians had made of him, until a new thought struck him, and he said
to himself:
"That will do. I will get all I want out of them; and then to save trouble
and _to be sure of my own secret_, I will have them arraigned before the
Order for killing a member, and they shall suffer the penalty, _death_. I
will then be free from fear. Capital! Everything is working to suit my
purposes!"
Exulting wretch! would to heaven the vengeance of an angry God could
overtake you, ere your schemes of fiendish crimes and dark murders are
completed. But, alas for the innocent, crime is yet in the ascendant!
* * * * *
In a pleasant grove, a part of the old forest yet standing near to the
dwelling of the Mandevilles, sat Eveline, beneath the shade of a friendly
tree, in a spot rendered sacred to her by endearing associations and holy
memories, musing on the past with heart cheering pleasure, on the present
with sadness, and the future with hope. So absorbed had she become in her
own meditations, time fled unheeded, and the world was forgotten--forgotten
all, save only two beings, the loved and absent Charles--with whose
well-being or misfortunes her own fate was strangely blended--and herself;
but of herself in the single light in which the mysterious ties of love
united her to him.
How long she had thus remained absorbed in her own reflections she knew
not, when her attention was drawn from her own thoughts to outward things
by the approach of a very neatly dressed gentleman, who, addressing her in
the most respectful manner, inquired:
"Does Mr. Mandeville live in this vicinity?"
"Yes, sir," she replied, at the same time rising to her feet. "That is his
residence yonder, which you can just distinguish through the surrounding
trees."
"A beautiful place!--May I be so bold as to inquire if you know whether I
will find him at home to-day?"
"No, sir, he is not at home."
"Perhaps I might still presume on your kindness, and inquire if he has not
a daughter that is or has been afflicted, and if she is already
convalescent, or is likely so to be soon."
"His daughter has been very sick, but has recovered."
"Would she--? But perhaps you do not know her history? Has she any friend
now absent, from whom she would be pleased to hear, do you know?"
"What is the object of the question, sir?"
"I hope you will excuse me, if I should presume too far; but I am the
bearer of a message from one who esteems her above all the world beside,
and--"
"How! do you know Charles Hadley?" she inquired, with deepened interest.
"Ah, I perceive you are not unacquainted with the history of the young
lady. Perhaps I am addressing Miss Mandeville in person?"
"Your supposition is true, my name is Mandeville. But you have not answered
my question yet."
"Pardon me, fair lady, for my seeming rude neglect. Yes, I know Mr. Hadley
well, and a better man does not live. He is my near and dear friend."
"Do you say so much? Then it is from him you have a message?"
"It is."
"Oh! tell me, is he well?"
"He is, but is longing to hear from you, to see you, to know that you are
still spared by the hand of death."
"You speak as though he were near. Is it indeed so?"
"It is, fair lady; he awaits your presence, or such word as you may be
pleased to send him, a short way from here, in the denser portion of the
forest, not wishing to transgress your father's commands contrary to your
wishes, or to expose himself to the displeasure of your parent, lest it
bring trouble and disquiet to your own heart. But please read the note he
commissioned me to bear to you; it probably explains the matter better than
I can, as he only confided to me such facts as were essentially necessary
for me to know, in order to an intelligent performance of the part he has
allotted to me as his friend."
Saying this he presented a letter, which Eveline received with a
joy-beaming countenance, and read with a wildly-throbbing heart. It ran as
follows:
"DEAREST EVELINE: For some weeks past, I have been in a distant
city, at the urgent call of duty, to attend the bedside of a sick mother. I
left while you were yet very ill, and bore with me the heavy fear that you
might never recover to bless me with a kind word or gentle look. So
terrible has been the suspense, and so deep the anxiety of mind under which
my spirit has labored, I could only perform my duties to a beloved mother
by resolutely bending my energies to the task, and with the first hour of
assured convalescence hastened to learn your fate. Oh, best beloved, may I
not hope to see you again? I have learned that you are better, and the
first great burden is removed, but I so long to behold you once more,--to
hear you speak--to know that I am not forgotten. But you know I dare not
come to you without incurring your father's deep displeasure; and I have
been in doubt and perplexity how to act. This note will be borne to you by
my most confidential friend, who will not betray us. If you can come to me,
even if it be but for a few brief moments, I beseech you to do so; but do
in this matter as your own better judgment shall determine. If you cannot
come, send me a note, even though it be but a line, that I may have some
precious token of remembrance to gaze upon. I am but a short distance from
your home, and a few steps will bring you to me; if you come, place
yourself under the guidance of my friend. Leaving you to act as prudence
and your own heart shall dictate, I remain, impatiently,
"Yours, most faithfully,
"CHARLES."
"P.S. Do permit me to entreat you to come if you can. I have a thousand
things to tell you, and some of them are cheering. I have not time to write
more now."
As we have said, Eveline read this letter with the wildest emotions
thrilling through her heart. A tumult of joy was in her bosom--joy more
exquisite than had gladdened her spirit since the hour when her young heart
knew that its deep love was reciprocated. Hadley was near her--he had been
falsely accused, and instead of the vile criminal he was represented, he
was a loving and dutiful son, fleeing to the bedside of a sick mother! What
a consolation to her heart! Without a moment's hesitation, she resolved to
see him, and turning to the gentleman, from whom she averted her face,
while reading, to conceal her feelings, she said, deeply blushing as she
did so:
"Mr. Hadley wishes me to see him, and directs me to place myself under your
guidance. Will you be so kind as to show me the way to him?"
"With the greatest pleasure; for I know he will be but too happy to behold
you. Pardon me, if, in my zeal for my friend, I should say aught that may
be out of place."
He led the way into the deeper recesses of the forest, and she followed
him. All this had been done in a moment, as it were, and without time for
the slightest consideration. Under other circumstances, or with a little
reflection, Eveline might have acted differently.
The two had proceeded a quarter of a mile or more, when Eveline, in passing
a large tree, was suddenly seized by rude hands, and ere she had time to
scream, a covering was placed over her mouth, and her hands secured. In
these operations her recent guide took an active part, and when they were
completed, he said:
"You shall not be injured by us, fair lady, and we only regret that we are
compelled, by the force of circumstances, to put you to the inconvenience
of a journey on so short a notice. You must go with us; but we will deal
tenderly with you so long as you are peaceable and quiet; but you must
beware how you attempt to make any noise; for we will not suffer ourselves
to be betrayed by such means."
With these remarks the two kidnappers, one on each side of their captive,
started off through the wilderness at as rapid a rate as their fair
prisoner could move.
To attempt a description of Eveline's feelings at this hour would be a vain
task. In a moment, she was brought down from the pinnacle of hope to the
depths of despair; for she saw in all this that had passed the hand of
Duffel, her avowed enemy; and, indeed, as the reader has doubtless already
concluded, she was in the hands of none others than Bill and Dick, who were
bearing her off to the cave.