During this recital Mr. Bristed and I exchanged glances of horror. We
could not speak. When it was finished, he said:
“Agnes, order the coach. I must take him away from this place.”
I felt that the boy was too feeble to move, but I dared not suggest it.
I too wanted him removed from the baneful influences of the house. We
proposed to carry him down on the pallet, and thus convey him to the
carriage. One hour or more elapsed before everything was in readiness.
While we were moving him Richard appeared, unannounced. A wild,
unearthly scream from Herbert first gave notice of his arrival.
“O uncle! Miss Reef! save me! He will beat me to death!”
His uncle endeavored to calm him with his assurance of protection, and,
turning to Richard, in a voice husky with emotion said:
“Look, this, is your work! If there is a God ruling the universe, your
punishment, though tardy, must be sure.”
“I see nothing strange about it,” said Richard, with an assumption of
indifference which made his handsome face look to me at that moment
like that of a Judas. “If he is my child, as you say, why should he not
be here? Who has a better right to him than I? The little imp professes
to dislike me, but that is some of your teaching, and I will soon cure
him of it.”
“You cannot have him, Richard. He must go with me.”
“I know my rights, and I will use them,” he replied, excitedly.
“Move that boy at your peril;” and he clapped his hand upon his
silver-mounted pocket-pistol. He had evidently been drinking. His day
at the race-course had maddened him. He was in a dangerous mood to
oppose. This Mr. Bristed evidently saw, as I did, for he beckoned me
to go out for assistance. As I was moving toward the door for that
purpose, Richard’s eye lit upon me.
“Ah, ha!” shouted he, coming toward me. “So you are the one who
has been prying into my affairs. It is you I must thank for this
interference. Out of this room directly! Get you gone!”
I should have obeyed, but a sound from Herbert’s bed arrested me--a
sound that awed me more than the angry voice of Richard! I hurried to
the bedside. Mr. Bristed was there before me. I looked at the sinking
boy. A stronger hand than his father’s grasped him now. _That_ hand was
_Death’s_!
No need now to remove the little sufferer from his couch to the
carriage in waiting. He would be borne soon by the white-robed angels
from the reach of us all!
Even Richard, whose cruel grasp he had eluded, seemed awed as the
little spirit burst from its tenement, and a transcendent smile settled
on the thin, waxen face, and the white hands folded themselves across
the breast with an air of unutterable peace.