The day had been very warm, and the old settee on the portico offered a
comfortable seat, so it was here Major Dudley and Julia decided to stay.
The master of the house made one more effort at postponement, but the
young mistress would have none of it. It must be that night, and at
once. Affairs had shaped themselves in such a manner that a complete
revelation of all that had been kept hidden from her was imperative. So
Peter fetched the long-stemmed meerschaum pipe which his master never
smoked except of evenings, and received his instructions regarding the
colt. These, by the way, were superfluous, for the negro had already
made his arrangements to be a bed-mate of The Prince that night. Then,
with the faint odour of the cherished honeysuckle at the corner of the
house in their nostrils, and the faraway plaint of a mourning
whip-poor-will floating spookily up from the lowlands on their right,
they settled themselves, one to the task of telling a story he had
rather have kept, and the other listening eagerly, yet with a certain
dread. Julia felt that a new existence was opening up for her, and it
looked formidable enough in the uncertain atmosphere which now enveloped
it. Hitherto her way had been smooth, and her tasks and renunciations
had been those of love. But as she thought of that dark-faced, brutish
looking man who lived only a half mile further down the road, and knew
that in some way both he and she were concerned in the tale she was to
hear, for the first time in her happy life a vague terror took hold of
her and her body sank closer to the form beside her. Major Dudley had
his pipe alight by this time, but he was slow to begin speaking. For
perhaps five minutes he said not a word, and Julia discreetly did not
urge him. She knew it would come, and they had half the night ahead of
them. Presently her father's hand strayed over into her lap and found
hers.
"Julia," he said, and his voice was so tender and caressing that the
girl caught a sob in her throat, that he might not hear, and be
distressed. "Julia, I have hoped all my life that it would never become
necessary for you to hear this story. It but illustrates man's
inhumanity to man, and shows the harm an evil mind can bring about. Now
I will tell you all about it, for it is your right.
"You never knew old Brule Marston. He was the father of our neighbour,
and at heart was as vile a being as I have ever known. He loved your
mother"--there was a catch in his voice here--"or at least pretended
that he did, and wanted to marry her. His family's position was good,
but only from the great fortune they had always owned. In reality the
Marstons have been a bad lot as far back as I have any recollection of
them. They have lived in Kentucky a long time, but they have always
bought their position in a community, and I have never known one of the
name to be a true gentleman, as we of the Bluegrass construe the word.
Brule Marston was hot-headed, rash, impetuous and domineering as a young
man. We were near the same age, he being a few years my senior, and we
knew each other but slightly, for our families never visited, as you
well know. Your mother came from Virginia to visit in the neighbourhood.
It was to the Beckwith home she came--you know Miss Adeline, the old
maid who lives with the Rays. She was one of the belles of the period,
and I met Margaret at their home. Brule Marston met her about the same
time, and then the mischief started. Each of us loved her from the
first, and in his own way. Brule tried to force her into a promise of
marriage, and for a time I thought I had lost her. He was handsome in a
dark, devilish way, and I think it was his dashing manner which
captivated Margaret for a time. They were heavy days for me, my
daughter, but I played fair, and never said or did an underhand thing to
attempt to further my cause. She gave no preference to either suitor so
far as being in her company was concerned, and we had an equal chance.
In the end I won, and that was God's choicest and sweetest gift to me.
My rival took his defeat as might have been expected. He went raving
wild when Margaret told him, and had not help been within call I believe
he would have struck her in his frenzy. Then followed a prolonged
drunken spree, when he scoured the country roads at night like a fiend
escaped from hell, shouting his curses at the sky, and shooting his
revolver recklessly. I had never feared him, and made no especial effort
to avoid him in my nightly calls upon my fiancee But I was glad we
never met, for mischief most certainly would have ensued.
"Margaret and I were married quietly, and now comes some more news. You
know you have often spoken of your uncle Arthur's picture over the
mantel in the library, saying how sorry you were never to have known
him? He was several years my junior, and had been at college in the
East. He came home and met Margaret after she and I had confessed our
love. He at once conceived a violent affection for her, and when he
discovered he was too late to hope to win her, it went hard with him,
indeed. He stayed till after the wedding, and then went West, following
the lure of gold. For a few years we heard from him at intervals, then
his letters ceased, and today we do not know whether he lives or not. We
loved each other dearly, and it has always been a cross to me that I was
the innocent cause of his exile. I have made efforts to find him, but
they have all been futile.
"Brule Marston disappeared a few days after our wedding. It was told
that he took a boat at Louisville and went south, as far as New Orleans.
He was gone a short time only, and when he returned he brought with him
a woman. She was a quadroon, or a Creole, and she was exceedingly
handsome in a flashy, barbaric way. Marston had loaded her with costly
silks and jewels of all kinds, and introduced her as his wife. No one
believed this to be true, and doors were closed upon them everywhere. In
the course of a year a child was born to them, a son, who from his
cradle was christened Devil Marston, for such was the wicked heart of
Brule, his father, who worshiped nothing but his own passions, and made
an open mock of religion. Then came the war, and I went with the South.
Fearing to leave my young wife unprotected, I took her to her old home
in Virginia, and there she stayed safely until the bitter strife was
over, and there you were born. When we returned home a fearful tale of
horror awaited us. In a maniac fit of rage Brule Marston had killed the
Creole woman whom he had brought up from New Orleans. No attempts had
been made to bring him to justice for the crime. Partly because
everything was so unhinged on account of the war and its effects, partly
because no officer was brave enough to try to arrest him. From that time
on he lived alone in the old home down yonder, leaving the rearing of
his son to an old negro woman who was reputed to be coarse and profane.
Harrowing stories came to us of the fiendish cruelties Brule Marston
practiced upon his servants, and he thought nothing of knocking one down
and stamping him with his feet.
"How swiftly the years have chased each other since I came back home
with you and your mother! And how I have wished them back again--those
short, sweet years which followed your coming, when Margaret, you and I
lived in perfect unity, and peace, and love. But change is the order of
the universe, and we must take it when it comes, bravely, if so be God
gives us grace, and fit ourselves to meet the new needs.
"Brule Marston died upon a night of awful storm. It seemed as if the
cohorts of Satan had assembled to escort his foul soul to the realms of
the lost. I will tell you now what I learned later, and I pray you to be
brave, my child, and do not fear. The only training which Brule Marston
instilled into his son was hatred of us. He never sought to teach him
any good thing, or any worthy precept. His eternal and ceaseless
injunction was hate, hate, hate. He never forgot the fact that I had
robbed him of the pure being he had set his black heart on possessing,
and revenge was the only feeling he harbored. Had he lived long enough I
believe that in the end he would have wrought us some great harm, for I
am assured that was his sole aim and desire. But death found him in the
midst of his machinations, and stilled his hand. Devil Marston was an
apt pupil, and he readily imbibed his father's teachings. By birth he
was well fitted for any scurrilous task or duty, and he has always found
joy in causing pain. On that night of storm when old Brule died he
called his son to his bedside, and laid upon him his dying wish. It was
that Devil Marston should make it his life's work to harass and oppress
us, and at last to ruin us utterly, using his entire fortune for that
purpose should it become necessary. It is needless for me to tell you
the son was not slow to make the promise. It was a task entirely
congenial to his nature. You have never been aware of it, my child, but
he has had designs upon your happiness, knowing well that through you he
could inflict the deepest pain upon me. You of course remember when he
was at our home frequently, when we accorded him the courtesy due any
one under our roof, while never extending him a welcome, or making him
feel that his presence was desired. He always endeavored to be pleasant,
but it transpired later that this was acting only; a mask for his true
feelings. He often sought to be alone with you, but I could not trust
the blood, worse mixed than ever in this man, and I always managed the
situation so that I should be present also. This annoyed him, and he
could not always hide his resentment--it would flame through the veil of
decency he tried to wear with us. I did all in my power to discourage
him from coming here, without asking him in so many words to stay away,
but he had set his soul upon accomplishing a certain thing, and he would
lose his soul rather than lose his project. Then came the night, not
long ago, after which his visits ceased."
The low, regular, even tones stopped, and father and daughter sat close
to each other in silence, each feeling the other's sympathy through
their clasped hands. As they sat thus in the sweet summer night a
clatter of hoofs jangled through the star-lit dark. They came from off
to the right--from the direction in which the man lived of whom they
were talking. The sound gathered rapidly in volume, and a moment or two
later they heard a horse running furiously by on the highroad in front
of them, going towards town. As the noise died away in the distance
Julia pressed the Major's hand, but said nothing.
"It is he," spoke the father, in a voice of pronounced melancholy. "So
his sire rode before him, killing on an average two horses every year.
It seems the devil not only dwells in them, but is continually chasing
them."
"What happened that night, daddy, when Mr. Marston came the last time? I
saw him only in passing, and he looked nervous and angry."
"He was angry, little one. We ended it all in the library, but not until
he had voluntarily torn away his mask. I would spare you this if I
could--if you did not demand it."
Though it was dark Julia knew that he had turned to look at her.
"But I demand it--everything. You will not find me weak, for I am
stronger than you know, daddy dear."
"He would not sit down, although I insisted that he take a chair, so our
interview occurred with us both standing. He was quite restless, and
frequently walked the entire length of the room, switching at his legs
with his whip, which he always carries. I do not think I had ever seen
him so disturbed--"
"I know all that, daddy; please come to the vital part at once."
The Major drew a deep breath, as though in preparation for some great
exertion.
"He told me at the outset that he loved you, and that he wanted me to
use my influence to gain your consent to marry him--damn him for a
lying, mongrel cur!"
The girl felt his deep rage trembling through the hand she held, but
the sickening shudder which swept her from head to foot passed unnoticed
by him. His mind was back on the memorable scene, when he had to grip a
chair-back to keep his hands off the throat of the scoundrel who faced
him--who had dared to come with his black sins thick upon him, and ask
for a Dudley, for his, Thomas Dudley's daughter in marriage! When he
resumed his story his voice was husky and uneven.
"For a time I did not answer him. I feared to speak, for I would have
cursed him from my home--would have driven him out like a rabid dog. I
stood behind a chair and looked at him, and through his bravado I saw
him grow afraid. He knew his words called for a bullet, and for a moment
I believe he thought it was coming. He did not relish my silence. I am
sure he had been drinking some, and his mood was more fiery and
impetuous than usual. He wanted it all over quickly, and that prompted
him to speak again.
"'Will you help me? What do you say?'
"Oh, how I wanted to splinter the chair before me against his face! But
I answered him thus:
"'I say that my daughter will never, _never_ marry you. She scarcely
knows you, she is but a child, but she is not, nor ever will be for you,
Devil Marston!'
"Thus I answered him, and I have never seen a human face become so
ferocious as his did at that moment. All restraint vanished on the
instant, and he became his own self, a raving beast. I do not recall his
words. They were hot, reckless, vindictive and threatening. His fury
became so great that he forgot all caution, and boasted of his money,
and power, and what he was going to do to us. He vowed that he would
bring us to a crust of bread before another year had gone, that he would
literally starve us to his will. He spoke of the bank, of his power
there as president, and declared that he would arrange to pass dividend
after dividend if I did not reconsider. When I bought my stock he was
only a director, but by unscrupulous wire-pulling and money manipulation
he has become the head of the bank, and owns nearly fifty per cent, of
the capital stock. That means, my daughter, that he really controls the
bank's affairs, and has power to declare or pass a dividend. He could
not do the latter without crooked work, for the bank is prosperous to a
high degree, but he glories in underhand methods, and would not hesitate
to swear to a false statement. If he does do this, I cannot foresee the
future very clearly, for you know that is our sole source of income. I
made no attempt to pacify him. I did not want his good will, for his ill
will were better. I patiently listened to his volcanic speeches, and at
last he wore himself out.
"'Now will you agree?' he concluded; 'or will you have me for an enemy
instead?'
"'I shall never agree to such a base proposition,' I answered, 'and I
had rather have you for an enemy than a friend.' Then I opened the door
and pointed him out. 'Don't ever show your evil face in this house
again!' I said, and he went, mouthing incoherent threats as he did so.
That is the story, child, and you cannot wonder that I have kept it
from you, whom I would shield from every sharp wind."
Again there was silence on the portico. A bird rustled in the vines, and
a tree-frog, awaking down on the lawn, shrilled his dolorous cry.
Perhaps a half hour passed without a word being spoken. Then Julia's
calm voice said:
"I believe you did right, and whatever happens you will know that I
approved your actions, and if we must suffer because of this man we will
suffer together, and help each other all we can. I had no idea of--his
feelings for me, but I cannot think them true and noble."
"They are assumed, and base as his nature can make them. He can no more
love than a brute beast of the field."
"What could have been his motive last night? Was it pretence only when
he made as if he would rescue The Prince?"
"Nothing else. It was a sham show of courage before you--and the people.
He may have had some vague hope of getting the colt out, and thus
winning favour with you, but whatever his momentary purpose, I am
positive his ultimate and main one is our downfall."
They continued to discuss the future until the library clock struck ten.
"You had better go to bed now, daddy," said Julia, coaxingly. "You know
it does not serve you well to sit up late, and nothing can be gained by
it tonight. Peter is at the smoke-house now, and Doctor Glenning will
be there long before the hour of danger, O daddy, what a brave, fine
fellow this new doctor is! I can scarcely understand how he has come to
us, and taken possession of us, as it were. He carries things with a
firm hand, and they all seem right and natural. Kiss me goodnight and go
upstairs; I shall be along presently."
The Major arose with a sigh, gave her the caress, and went indoors.
Directly she heard his deliberate step on the stair. It was then she
went in also, and carefully put out the lights. But instead of seeking
her room she found a light, dark-coloured shawl and crept noiselessly
back to the settee, leaving the front door slightly ajar. She could not
go to sleep yet, and the sense of impending danger had so wrought upon
her that she knew it would be entirely useless for her to attempt to
compose herself for rest. A subdued excitement was running swiftly
through her veins, so she wrapped the sombre folds of the ample shawl
closely about her form, completely hiding the white dress which she
wore, and let her mind review the incidents which had taken place the
last twenty-four hours. The retrospection had its pleasant features,
despite the loss and anxiety she had suffered. It was not a disquieting
thought to know that a clean, athletic young gentleman with remarkable
eyes and a new way of looking at things had for the time usurped control
of the Dudley affairs, all in a way which bore no trace of forwardness.
It was not a fearsome thing at all to sit there and know that within an
hour or two a knight would be on the ground to champion her cause
against any and all comers. But it was a new sensation for Julia. She
had never had a sweetheart, and the only protection she knew was that
offered by her father, which was really only a tender providing for her
temporal wants. But this night romance walked abroad. A man, almost a
stranger, was really to risk his life for her!
Swiftly the minutes raced by, and Julia was startled when the clock
struck twelve. She was sure she had not slept, but this was the hour,
and her knight had not come. As the vibrations from within pulsed into
silence she became aware that something was moving on the drive. She
strained her eyes through the nebulous star-shine, holding her breath in
the tenseness of the moment. The figure of a man rapidly assumed
proportions before her gaze. He was walking quickly, but noiselessly. He
passed the portico step without stopping, and though he wore a cap and
his coat was closely buttoned, Julia knew it was the one who had
promised to be there at that time. She shrank back and clutched the
shawl closely under her chin, but he looked in front of him only, and
passed on around the corner of the house in the direction of the
impromptu stable.
Julia arose and went in, carefully locking the front door. Then she
tipped up to her room, pausing at her father's door to listen. From the
regularity of his breathing, and the part of the room from whence the
sound proceeded, she knew he was asleep. She was glad of this, for she
had feared he would try to sit up. Passing into her own room she
undressed and prepared herself for the night, then knelt by the open
window, and with her elbows on the sill and her chin in her palms, gazed
up at the starry space above her, and prayed. This was her nightly
custom, to pray from her open casement. It seemed to her that a freer,
more perfect and more intimate communication was established thus. It
was only a fancy, of course, but it was one she always indulged in when
the weather would allow. This night a new name was added to her
petitions. She knelt there a long, long time after her prayers were
done, listening, dreading to hear. But only the soft night sounds she
had known always came to her. Then all at once a sweet drowsiness crept
over her, and soon she was in bed, asleep.
Glenning's approach to the smoke-house came very near resulting in a
tragedy. Preoccupied, he walked boldly to the door, and tried to open
it. Instantly a belligerent and threatening voice informed him if he
"teched dat do' ag'in he'd git a hole in 'im yo' c'd th'ow a dog thu!"
John stepped quickly aside and opened a parley with the defender of the
door. It was several minutes before Peter could be persuaded that it was
the new doctor come to relieve him, although this part of the program
had been dinned into him over and over again by Julia, and when at last
the door was grudgingly opened a few inches, the rusty barrel of an army
musket was the first thing to appear. But the exchange was then soon
effected, and the relief guard had to unceremoniously cut off a long
string of instructions from the departing Peter, by gently closing the
door in that worthy's face, and making it tight on the inside.
Alone with the colt, Glenning drew a small lantern from his pocket, and
made his brief preparations. With native denseness of mind, Peter had
tethered The Prince broadside on to the window yawning blackly in the
opposite wall. The man untied the halter, and led the animal to a point
where it would be most inaccessible for anyone attempting it harm by
employing the window, and that was really the only point where an attack
could be successfully made, for the door was thick-beamed, and could not
be forced. This done to his satisfaction, the man sat down directly
under the window--in this position the hole was about two feet over his
head--and drew forth a thirty-eight calibre revolver. The brief but
thorough inspection he gave it showed it to be in perfect trim, so he
carefully placed it on a shingle which happened to lie near by. Then he
closed the slide of his lantern, found a comfortable attitude with his
back against the logs, and did some thinking himself. His mind was
keenly awake and alert, and he had no fear of falling asleep. Now and
again he would look at his watch, then lean back and stare into the
impenetrable blackness before him, and wonder things. The colt was very
quiet, his only movement being an occasional stamp of the foot. Finally
Glenning's watch showed half-past two. At this time of the year it would
begin to grow light soon after three. He arose agilely, and drew off his
coat. Then he loosened his shirt at the throat, rolled his sleeves
above his elbows, and again sat down, this time facing the window, with
his knees drawn up. If the attack was really to be made that night it
must come quickly. He had scarcely settled himself in this new attitude
when he felt another presence. On the heels of this intuitive perception
came light footfalls--a stealthy creeping on the balls of the feet. The
prowler was circling the smoke-house, seeking some place of entrance.
The feet stopped at the door, and Glenning heard the strain of the bolts
as a shoulder was forcibly pressed upon the oaken planks. The man inside
smiled grimly, and waited. A moment's silence, and the footfalls came
on, to the corner, around it, and the watcher caught the low exclamation
of gratified surprise when the marauder saw the window. Glenning got to
his knees and slowly rubbed the palms of his hands together, while his
jaws grew hard. A shaft of yellow light darted through the window and
danced among the blackened rafters near the roof, showing the broken
bits of hempen strings which in past years had borne luscious burdens.
The man crouching inside set his eyes intently on the opening, while on
his body and limbs the muscles rose and ridged themselves for the coming
battle. The sword of yellow light flickered lower and lower, revealing
the beech logs to which the bark still clung, and the chinking between
them. Lower, and around, till it shone in the honest, unsuspecting eyes
of The Prince, and glistened on his withers, and found the spot on his
shiny coat behind which his heart was beating. A hand holding a
bull's-eye lantern came through the window; another hand holding a huge
revolver, cocked, crept like a snake to its side. Then up from the
darkness beneath the window sprang two other hands, long, slender, white
and strong as steel. Around the wrists of the assassin these two hands
closed in a grip so fierce that it brought a cry of pain and fright from
the one outside, and lantern and revolver fell to the soft earth inside
the smoke-house. Then ensued a silent struggle, in which the captive
strove with fiendish power born of terror and rage to free himself.
Glenning, on his knees, sent all his strength to his vise-like hands.
Not a word was spoken, not another sound was uttered. In the gloom the
two men strove as two animals might, and their heavy breathing alone
broke the stillness. Not for nothing had John Glenning kept himself in
rigorous physical training from the first year he went to college. All
his hoarded strength leaped up at his call, and gave him the victory.
Gradually the frantic struggles of the marauder stopped, and finally he
ceased resisting. Then Glenning, with his hands still set in a
superhuman grasp, spoke from between his clenched teeth.
"Who are you?"
There was no answer.
"Who are you?" he repeated.
Still no answer came.
Then the captor began to draw down on the arms he held, forcing the
bones against the log at the bottom of the window. Down, down, and a
groan of pain escaped his prisoner.
"Who are you?" he asked, for the third time.
"Don't break my arms!" said a voice.
Glenning recognized it.
"Are you Travers?"
"Yes--yes--I'm Travers! Let me go--for God's sake! You're killing me!"
"Who sent you to kill this horse?"
A little more force was brought to bear with the question.
"Marston--Devil Marston! Ease up a little and I'll talk--I swear I'll
talk!"
John did as the man requested, though not lessening his grip on the
wrists.
"Now let me tell you something. You don't know who I am, but I want you
to know. You came out here expecting easy sailing, because you thought
there was no one here to protect this horse. I'm the new doctor who came
last night, and I'm at your hotel. I won't be there tomorrow night. I'm
not making you any promises of secrecy about this matter, but I'd advise
you to cut Marston. Now I want you to go to Marston tomorrow with this
message from John Glenning. Tell him I say he's got to leave the Dudleys
and the Dudley's horse alone. Tell him the next one who comes here on
mischief will be shot, if it is himself. Do you understand, and will you
promise to tell him?"
"Yes, I'll tell him every word. But for God's sake don't you tell
anybody of this. It'd ruin me. It's the first time I've ever gone wrong,
and if you'll let me off I'll swear not to do anything bad again. And
I'll tell Marston. He got me into this."
"I'll not make you any promises, but I'll see how you behave, for I've
come here to stay. Go, now, before daylight catches you, and thank the
Lord you're alive!"
In the first gray dawn of the next morning Peter knocked dubiously on
the smoke-house door. It was opened promptly, and when he saw The Prince
alive and unharmed his joy knew no bounds. Glenning dismissed his
exuberant manifestations somewhat abruptly, for he was in haste to be
gone. Instructing the darky to say to the Dudleys that nothing of any
consequence had happened, he went around the house and down the avenue
towards the road.
And how was he to know that behind a partly lifted curtain in an upper
room two sleep-sweet eyes, moist with beauty newly born, watched his
retreating figure with something approaching tenderness in their
depths?