Early the next morning Mr. Bristed accompanied the lifeless body of
little Herbert to Bristed Hall. He begged me to go with him, but I
refused his solicitations. I had other duties before me, which I must
perform. I should have been glad to have rid myself from every one, but
that could not be. Richard did not return, and I was alone; the days
dragged heavily away. I felt that I stood on the brink of a yawning
chasm from which I could turn neither to the right nor the left. The
thought of remaining with Richard was abhorrent, and the prospect of
leaving him and commencing life anew was also a dreadful alternative.
What shall I do?--I reflected, as I went my weary way through the
classes. Richard solved that question for me when he returned after an
absence of three days.
My pupils had just retired when a message came that he had returned and
desired to see me in the library. With a heavy heart I went to meet
him. He was not alone. A tall, passionate-looking woman, with dark hair
and restless eyes, sat beside him. She was richly appareled, and gazed
at me with a haughty stare as I entered.
Richard nodded to me a bare recognition and said, “I have sent for
you, as I wish you to inform your pupils that they must leave in the
morning. I have other uses for this building.”
At this cool announcement I staggered. Good God! would he undo me? What
plan had he now in view? “Remove my pupils!” I exclaimed.
“Yes; do I not speak clearly? And as you have been plotting and
scheming for some time against me, I would advise you to leave, also.
Bristed Hall,” said he sneeringly, “is likely to prove an agreeable
shelter to you.”
“_I_ leave!” said I, now fairly awake to the danger. “What do you mean,
sir?”
“I mean,” he replied with diabolical blandness, “that this lady is my
wife, and will from this time take charge of this establishment.”
“Richard Bristed, you cannot, dare not make that assertion! I am your
wife, though I acknowledge it with shame and sorrow. He has misled you,
madam,” said I, turning to the lady. “You are mistaken if you suppose I
shall abandon my rights.”
“Ha, ha!” he laughed, “_she_ knows all about you. You cannot enlighten
her, so you had better hasten and pack your trunks.”
“I shall not leave, sir; I shall defend my position here. I am a woman,
and you shall not sully my fair name,” said I, maddened by his manner.
“Your brother will help me--the law will aid me. Here I remain!”
“You will?” said he; “we will see. This house is mine,” and he drew out
his pistol with which to frighten me.
“Richard,” said I, hoping to restore him to calmness, “put up that
pistol. You cannot, dare not use it.”
“Dare not!” he exclaimed, coming up to me, his hot breath smelling of
wine; “I will show you if I dare not!”
I was alarmed as he suddenly cocked the weapon. What might he not do in
his drunken excitement?
“She is a coward, Dick,” said the lady. “Don’t trouble yourself about
her,” and then turning to me and stamping her foot, “How dare you say
you are his wife!” she exclaimed. “Go out from here!”
I shook from head to foot, but did not leave.
“Come, Dick, give me the pistol,” said the lady; “You don’t know what
you might do with it.”
“Don’t meddle with me,” said he, as she attempted to wrest it from his
grasp. “Why does that girl stand glowering at me?”
“O Richard,” I sobbed, “my heart is ready to burst! Don’t act so;
remember Herbert!”
“Remember Herbert!” he muttered; “I do remember him. You killed him
with your pranks, and now you would accuse me. Go, leave my house, or I
will compel you.”
I believe he would have fired upon me at that moment, but the lady
sprang forward and caught his arm. A slight struggle ensued, then
followed a sharp report, and the pistol fell to the ground; a fearful
shriek rent the air, and Richard fell heavily to the floor, covered
with blood. I rushed to help him. He raised his glassy eyes to mine,
and faintly murmuring “My God! I am lost!” expired.