A TERRIBLE REVELATION
“We must wait until Franklin comes on board,” said Leonidas Force, the
next morning, as he stood beside Mr. Force, on the deck of the
_Argente_, looking off toward the navy yard, where a boat had already
been sent to bring out the young midshipman.
“Will he be punctual?” inquired Mr. Force, who was almost as impatient
as his companion to be off to keep their appointment to breakfast with
the ladies of their family at the hotel that morning.
“‘Punctual!’” echoed Le. “His orders are to report on board at seven
this morning, and he will be here on time.”
Mr. Force took out his watch and looked at it.
“It wants twelve minutes to seven now!” he exclaimed.
“And here comes Franklin!” replied Le, as the young midshipman was seen
running across the yard down to the water’s edge, where the boat waited.
As he jumped on board, the boat was seen to turn and head for the ship.
In a few minutes it had crossed the water and come up alongside.
Young Franklin sprang out and climbed up on deck.
“Two minutes to seven! You are prompt, midshipman,” said Le, smiling.
“I would rather be an hour too soon than a second too late, lieutenant,”
replied the young officer, saluting.
“Quite right! Tell the coxswain to wait. He is to take this gentleman
and myself ashore,” said Le.
Then he went down into his cabin, followed by Mr. Force, to make a few
final preparations.
Soon they returned to the deck, went down into the boat, and headed for
the shore.
When they landed, and were walking across the yard, Le asked:
“I may at last marry Odalite without let or hindrance?”
“I have told you so, lad!”
“Yes, bless you, uncle! But how soon? How soon?”
“This very day, if Odalite and her mother agree.”
“Let us walk faster, uncle! Please!” pleaded the impatient lover.
“My dear Le! Consider—consider my rheumatism! Besides, look! There is no
car near the gate, and we shall pass through before one comes up.”
Le saw at once that fast walking would not bring him any sooner to the
side of his sweetheart, and so he moderated his haste.
They reached the gate just as a car came up, and they entered it while
the horses were being unharnessed and turned around.
“If one had but wings!” said Le.
“You would find them inconvenient on most occasions,” replied Mr. Force.
Several other passengers now entered the car, and it started on its
uptown trip.
Passengers from the sidewalks, however, continued to stop the car and
crowd in until it was more than full, for every seat was occupied, and
all the standing room between the rows, as well as both platforms before
and behind.
This was always the condition of the street cars in war times, when
authorities were as careless of the lives of horses as they were of
those of men.
All private conversation was rendered impossible, and Mr. Force rode on
in perfect silence, half suffocated by the close air and heavily pressed
upon by a crowd of men standing up in the middle, hanging on by the
straps and swaying to and fro against the forms of their fellow
passengers.
At last—“long last”—the ordeal was over. The toiling horses reached the
corner of the street on which their hotel was situated, and Mr. Force
pulled the strap to stop the car, and with his companion slowly pushed,
elbowed and worked his way out of the “black hole” in the open air.
“There is one comfort in this difficulty in getting out—though our
clothes are often torn and our flesh scratched or bruised in the
trial—yet it gives the wretched horses a minute’s rest,” said the
squire, as, followed by Le, he made his way across the pavement to the
ladies’ entrance of the house.
Here a great shock met him.
The earl, pale and grave, stood in the hall waiting for him.
He bowed to Le, and then took the arm of his brother-in-law, and said:
“Come with me, Force—lieutenant, you will find the young ladies in the
parlor.”
Le, surprised and vaguely uneasy, hesitated for a moment, and then ran
upstairs.
“What is the meaning of this, Enderby? What has happened?” anxiously
inquired the squire.
“Your wife is not well. She——”
“She is ill! She is dangerously ill! Let me go to her! Let me go to her
at once!” exclaimed the terrified husband, breaking from the earl’s
hold.
“No, no, I beg of you! It would be useless! She is—sleeping! Two
physicians and a nurse watch beside her, and they forbid all approach
for the present. Come in here with me!” said the earl, drawing his
brother-in-law into the nearest room, which happened to be a temporarily
untenanted private parlor.
“When did this happen? Why was I not sent for at once? What is the
nature of her illness? Oh, my dear wife!” exclaimed the squire, as he
fell rather than sat down upon the nearest chair.
The earl closed the door and turned the key, and then answered:
“Not an hour ago! They—Elfrida and her daughter, with Miss Hedge and
myself—were in the drawing room waiting for your arrival before ordering
breakfast. A servant brought in the morning paper, and Wynnette took it
to read aloud for the benefit of the party. She turned first to the
report of the examination of the two prisoners, Silver and Cloud, alias
Stukely and Bayard, and of the demand of the British Government for
their extradition upon charge of piracy and slave dealing.”
“Good Heaven!”
“The demand was said to have come through the British consul at New
York, who had been on the watch for the possible capture by our ships of
this same pirate ship.”
“Then old Grandiere’s word will come true!”
“Probably! But as Wynnette read I happened to look at my sister. She had
grown deadly pale. I arose to go to her, but she raised her hand with a
gesture of command that stopped me, and she listened to the end of the
reading, and then, with her wonderful self-control—deadly pale as she
was—arose to leave the room. Wynnette had not observed the change in her
mother; but Odalite and Elva had done so, and both of them sprang to her
side. Her attack was so sudden and unaccountable.”
“I understand! I understand!” muttered Mr. Force to himself.
“But she waved the girls back in the most peremptory manner, and went
alone to her room. The children came back to me, and gazed in my face
for an explanation. I could give them none. They once more started to
follow their mother. But I called them back, and told them to be
patient. Then the condition of little Rosemary Hedge claimed attention.
She was sobbing violently on the sofa. I told my nieces to respect their
mother’s wish to be left alone; that she was probably overcome by the
ill news of one whom she had known from his boyhood, and that she would
best recover her composure in solitude.”
“I understand! I understand!” again murmured the poor squire to himself.
“I went to Rosemary, and sought to soothe her. While I was so engaged
little Elva slipped away and went up to her mother’s room, and instantly
came shrieking back, telling us, in wild and incoherent exclamations,
that her mother lay unconscious on the floor of her chamber.
“Gracious! Gracious heavens!” groaned the squire.
“We hurried to her assistance, all of us, even Rosemary, who forgot her
own grief at this crisis. We found her on the carpet in a deep swoon.
“She lay face downward, and dressed as if for a journey. By her side lay
a traveling bag, which seemed to have dropped from her hand as she
fell.”
“I understand! Oh, I understand too well! too well!” muttered the squire
to himself.
“We got her on the bed, and sent for a doctor. There was one in the
house, who heard of the event, and came first. Then the doctor whom we
had sent for arrived. They are with her now. One of them procured a
professional nurse. And they are all three agreed upon one point—that no
one but the doctor or nurse be allowed to enter the room.”
“But I must go to her door. I will not make the least noise; but I must
go to the door and see one of the physicians,” said Mr. Force, rising.
“I will go with you,” said the earl.
The two gentlemen left the room together, and went up two flights of
stairs to the floor on which was the suit of rooms occupied by the
Forces.
They paused before the door of the chamber of illness, or it might be of
death, and Mr. Force tapped very gently.
It was the nurse, a wholesome-looking, middle-aged woman, who answered
the summons.
“I wish to see one of the physicians,” whispered Abel Force, in a voice
that trembled with emotion.
The woman stepped noiselessly back into the room, and was presently
succeeded by Dr. Bolten, a large, fair, bald-headed man, of about sixty
years of age. He stepped out into the passage noiselessly, closing the
door behind him. Then, in a whisper, he greeted Mr. Force, with whom he
had been acquainted.
“How is my wife?” he inquired, in breathless anxiety.