HOW I WAS LED ON BY PASSION TO CUT A MAN'S THROAT.
As soon as I had got the better of my ecstasy, I held the letter again
up to the light, yet could not make out one word of it, for the tears of
gladness in my eyes. However, I brushed these away with my hand
impatiently, and so held the letter up again, but still with the knife
in my hand, for I was now more eager than ever to accomplish my design
and overtake my lady, who, I doubted not, had writ me some comforting
words to let me know how I might best come at her. And now, my eyes
being clear, I read her letter, which I can repeat word for word; for,
sure, I read it a hundred times, and each word did engrave itself into
my memory.
"We are overtaken," the letter began, "by soldiers charged to carry us
back to Castello Lagos, and surrender us into the hands of Rodrigues. To
save me from such a fate, which was worse than death tenfold, Senhor de
Pino has offered to convey me to Caracas. I have tried, but in vain, to
obtain the same favor for you; but he dare not venture upon it. Indeed,
he endangers his own life in saving me, wherefore I look to you to
support the story he has given out to account for not obeying the
governor's orders to the letter--to wit, that I have perished by the
way. I know you are too reasonable and too generous to bear me ill-will
for abandoning you, for sure you will own I have no choice but to do so.
Farewell, Benet. Oh, may Providence be merciful to you!"
When I had came to the end, and turned it about, to see if there was not
some little kind word that I had overlooked and could find none, the
knife dropped from my hand; and truly all vigor and power seemed gone
from my body, so that my limbs trembled under me as if I had just risen
from a bed of sickness.
Then I could not believe I had read aright, and so went through it again
and again and again; after that, pondering each word, to see if I could
not make it appear a little better than it looked.
At last, when I could no longer see the writing for want of light, I
flung myself prone on the ground, and gave myself up to the most
miserable reflections ever man endured. It was as if a miser had
suddenly discovered all his gold turned to fine ashes; for no miser ever
prized his pieces for their true ring and bright lustre more than I
valued Lady Biddy for her loyalty, and generous, loving disposition; and
now I could find nothing but heartless ingratitude and careless cruelty
in her nature, to abandon me thus, without a word of regret or comfort.
It seemed to me as if her chief end in writing was to obtain security
for herself and Lewis de Pino, by persuading me to support the story of
her death; and with such a cold, cruel heart, to invoke the mercy of
Providence towards me was nothing but hypocrisy, with a taint of
blasphemy.
"Had she studied to crush the love out of my heart she could not have
writ more unkindly," says I to myself. Then it came to my mind that this
cruelty was studied to that end, in order that my passion might not give
me the power to escape and rejoin her. And the more I thought of this,
the more likely it appeared. "She has Lewis de Pino," says I, grinding
my teeth in rage, "and has no further need of me."
Then I cursed her for a cruel, unkind jade, and would try to think I was
well rid of such a baggage--that all women were false alike for fools
and boys to love, and fit only to be treated as men like Rodrigues
treated them. "They make sport," says I, "of those who are fond enough
to love them, and kiss the hand of a cruel, hardened wretch like Lewis
de Pino. 'Tis the trick of a dog who snaps at loving children who would
caress it, and cringes before the tyrant who spurns it with his foot.
Fear not that I shall seek to separate you from your lord--no, not
though I saw him lift the whip to flog you as he would another slave. I
trust no woman again; the friendship of Rodrigues is more stanch and
loyal. I have done all a man could do in proportion to his means for the
love of a woman; but I have come to an end of my folly. My body shall
shed its blood no more for you--no, nor my heart a tear. And yet,"
thinks I, my rage abating as I perceived how dreary and barren my life
must henceforth be, which seemed, as I looked back on it, to be all
strewn with flowers and gladdened with sunshine--"yet, in truth, I do
wish you had died before you writ that letter. Would that I could yet
treasure that tender joy of love for you that has made a fool of me! Ay,
would that you had died ere I knew you worthless, while I yet thought
you all that was beautiful and good and kind! 'Twould have broke my
heart to have lost you then; but better 'tis to live with ever-abiding
sorrow for such loss than to find nothing in the world to weep for."
In this fashion did I pass from one fit to another--from rage to regret,
from bitter hate to tender grief--till the stars shone brightly through
the rifts above; but they came into sight and passed away, marking the
growing hours, without my heeding any longer the increasing distance
between Lady Biddy and me; nor did I once think to make my escape. She
was gone from me forever, and with her all my hopes and anxiety. I gave
no thought as to what would happen on the morrow, or what my fate would
be when Rodrigues got me again into his hands. If I had thought of it I
should have welcomed the prospect of death itself even by the worst
torture his cruel nature could devise.
Lady Biddy had appealed to my generosity and reason, but I had neither
one nor the other, else had I perhaps brought myself to see that, after
all, she had done no more than I should have bid her do if her fate had
been in my hands. Could I have consented to her being carried back with
me to Rodrigues? No! not though the alternative was to yield her to the
mercy of Lewis de Pino. Then why was I so put about because she had done
that which I would have had her do? Simply because she had not paid me
the compliment to ask my advice? There may have been no time to appeal
to my decision; she may, as she said, have depended on my good judgment
to accept what was inevitable. These and many other arguments I could
urge, never occurred to me then, for my reason was undone.
As I lay there on the ground with that passionate turmoil in my breast,
with my eyes turned away from the stars that seemed to look down on me
through the night with a sweet, still sorrow that made my pain the more
hard to endure, I saw a streak of light between the door and the
footsill, and presently heard the bar being taken down very carefully,
but after a pause, as if assurance were being made that I was not astir.
"They are come to murder me in my sleep," thinks I; "is this the mercy
she prayed Providence to bestow on me, or did she pray that mercy of
Lewis de Pino?"
The bar being down, first one bolt grated slowly in the socket, and then
the other.
"Now," thinks I, "will they come upon me cautiously, or will they do it
with a sudden rush?"
But so little count did I make of my life that I did not stir nor take
my arm from under my head.
The door creaked slowly on its hinges, and I saw the wall beyond through
the widening opening, and a lantern set upon the ground. Then a great
shock head came athwart the opening, dark against the light on the wall;
and after peering in for a minute or so without seeing anything (for I
lay far back in the dark), or hearing any movement, the man ventured in
a little further, so that his figure blocked out the light still more;
and thus he stood another minute, turning his head this way and that, as
if to make sure I was not hidden against the wall, ready to spring on
him. Then he draws back and picks up something which stood behind the
door with his left hand, and then the lantern with his right, and,
stepping sideways and very gingerly past the door, he comes into my
chamber, so that I could see he carried in his left hand a pitcher, and
under that arm a little bundle.
"So," thinks I, "it is to bring my food, and not to murder me, the
fellow has come. 'Tis all the same to me. I would as soon have his knife
as his food in me."
Setting down the pitcher and the bundle, he lifts the lantern high and
looks about; but not seeing me for the shadow where I lay, and the
feeble light of his candle, he puts up his hand, and, shoving his hat on
one side, scratches his head, as if perplexed to know where I had got
to. Then moving a couple of steps forward on his toes, he holds up the
lantern again and peers around, and then, getting a glimpse of me, gives
a nod of satisfaction, as much as to say, "Oh, you're there after all,
are you?" and so he comes forward again towards me, but very cautiously
setting down the lantern and turning the door of it towards me, that the
light might not fall upon my eyes.
And now the idea seized me of a sudden that I might throw this fellow
down and make my escape, whilst a wicked longing for vengeance burnt up
my heart. I know not what bloody design lay at the bottom of my purpose,
but I made up my mind I would escape and overtake Lady Biddy, though she
was in the furthest corner of the earth. So with the cunning of a
villain I closed my eyes, that the fellow might not see by their glitter
I was awake (yet not so close but that I could watch him well), in order
that he might get near to me before I sprang at him.
He seemed to have some ill forecast of my design, for more than once he
stopped betwixt the lantern and me to scratch his head and consider of
his safety. However, he ventures within about a couple of feet of me,
and then squatting down reaches out his arm, as if he would wake me to
let me know he had brought food for my use. And though this was a kindly
office, deserving of a better return (for I took no heed of it because
of the devilish wickedness in my heart), I suddenly caught hold of his
extended arm, and, giving it a sharp jerk, threw him on his side.
Seeing a knife in his belt, I bethought me I would cut his throat, and
so save myself from pursuit, for there is no vile murder a man will stop
short of when he gives up his soul to the fiend of vengeance; and this
purpose came so suddenly to my mind (even as he was rolling over, and
the handle of his knife caught a ray of light from the lantern) that I
had no time to consider what I was about. In a moment I had sprung up,
and set my knee in his flank, and grasping him by his ragged shock of
hair with my left hand, so that I drew his head back between his
shoulders, I whipped out his knife with my right.
Surely in another moment I should have cut his throat, but that just
then, raising his voice as well as he could for his position, he cries
out, in very good English--
"Lord love you, master, would you murder your own countryman?"