But from that moment Lizzie had not a moment’s peace. She dreaded
everything and everybody. Each casual visitor she believed to be a
spy, and the appearance of a friend made her think that the hour of
discovery had come. Rosa made her a thousand promises of fidelity,
but the yellow girl, though devoted to her mistress’s interests, was,
after all, very much like other women, and found it a hard task to hold
her tongue. The whole time she was employed in exercising the baby
in the plantation, was a season of torture to Lizzie, who pictured
her confiding the whole story to her most intimate friend, under a
promise of inviolable secrecy. Meanwhile Henri de Courcelles, though
confined to one room during the day time, and only venturing out after
dark by means of the window, and with a disguise on, was passing a
fairly pleasant time. The two women fed him royally, and waited on him
like servants, and he held several conferences with Lizzie as to the
possibility of his getting down to the Fort by night, and embarking as
a seaman on board one of the Spanish crafts that lay in the bay of San
Diego. They would have carried this plan, of which they had arranged
all the minutiæ together, into effect at once, had it not been deemed
advisable that De Courcelles should lie _perdu_ until it might be
supposed by the authorities that their prisoner had perished beyond all
doubt in the Alligator Swamp. As soon as the guard of mounted police
who watched for him outside the swamp was withdrawn, Lizzie and De
Courcelles decided that his first attempt at an escape from the island
should be made. He had been concealed in the bungalow for two days
when Mr Courtney walked in one morning and took a seat beside Lizzie.
The planter looked worn and anxious, and as he removed his hat, and
passed his handkerchief across his brow, he seemed to have grown older
of late, notwithstanding the brilliant marriage that his daughter had
made. The words with which he opened the conversation, had reference to
Maraquita.
‘Sir Russell and Lady Johnstone have come to stay with us at the White
House, Lizzie.’
‘Indeed, sir,’ she replied. ‘I suppose Quita is nervous of staying at
Government House, after what happened there last week. And I don’t
wonder at it, poor girl! I should be glad to hear that the Governor had
decided to take her to England.’
‘So should we, my dear, and they will go before long--there is no
doubt of that--only, it would hardly do for the Governor to run away
whilst the island is in this state of ferment. But he judged rightly in
thinking that our dear Maraquita would feel safer and happier with her
parents, and in her old home. For she has received a terrible shock,
Lizzie, and it is telling on her visibly. She seems ten years older to
me.’
‘Poor Quita, she cannot fail to feel it,’ replied Lizzie, looking at
the matter in a totally different light from that in which Mr Courtney
regarded it.
‘Yes, and I wish I could think that there was no further reason for her
fears. Lizzie, I have come here this morning for one purpose only,--to
persuade you to return with me to the White House.’
Lizzie started, and coloured.
‘Oh, Mr Courtney, I cannot. I don’t know why you want me there, but
unless it is in my capacity as medical adviser, I must refuse. You
forget that Mrs Courtney ordered me never to show my face there again.’
‘I can allow no feminine quarrels to interfere with your safety,
Lizzie; and it is to secure _that_ that I beg of you to take up your
residence at my house until these mutinous ideas have been knocked out
of the coolies’ heads. I do not feel that you are safe,--that we are,
any of us, safe. I begin to distrust even my own hands, for whom I have
done all in my power.’
‘Mr Courtney, I appreciate your kindness, but there are too many
reasons why I cannot accept it.’
‘Name them, my dear.’
‘I have named one already, sir. Another is my infant charge. Do you
suppose I would desert her?’
‘Bring her with you. There is room in the White House for us all.’
‘No, Mr Courtney,’ she answered proudly, ‘it is _impossible_. I will
not take the child under the roof of the very woman who has falsely
accused me of being its mother.’
‘But I am sure, Lizzie, that neither my wife nor Maraquita really
believe that story.’
‘And I am sure of it too, sir; but that only places their cruelty to me
in a more heinous light. Forgive me for saying it, Mr Courtney, before
you, who have always been so good to me and my poor father, but I will
never again place myself voluntarily in the society of either Mrs
Courtney or Maraquita, until they have publicly acknowledged that they
have done me a foul wrong.’
‘They have been very hard on you,’ sighed the planter; ‘but their
conduct cannot blind me to my duty. I cannot consent to your remaining
here, Lizzie. The negroes may rise at any moment, and this bungalow is
in the very midst of their quarters. I have received secret information
concerning them, that has seriously alarmed me. The general
disaffection has spread much further than I dreamt of, and even the
hands on Beauregard are believed to be ripe for rebellion. Were they to
take it into their heads to rise, what would you do?’
Lizzie laughed at the idea.
‘In that case, sir--did I believe it possible (which I can hardly do)
that your coolies could so utterly forget all they owe to you--I should
be much safer _here_ than in the White House. Why should they harbour
any resentment against _me_? They loved my dear father, and I believe
they love me for his sake, and _I_ have nothing to do with their
fancied causes for complaint. If they do rise, which God forbid, it
will be the White House against which they will make a raid.’
‘Ah, my dear child, long as you have lived amongst them, you do not
know the negro nature as I do. Once roused, he becomes a devil, and has
no power of distinguishing between friends and foes. This bungalow will
be the first piece of my property which they will have the opportunity
of destroying, and I feel sure they will not spare it, nor perhaps
even _you_. Lizzie, I beg, I implore of you to accept my offer of
protection, and transport yourself, and all you value, to the White
House.’
But Lizzie was firm. She quailed a little before the possible picture
Mr Courtney had conjured up,--before the remembrance too of certain
words of Captain Norris, in which he had expressed his own fears for
her safety; but they had no power to alter her determination. There
was her poor prisoner in the next room to them. Guilty as he had proved
himself to be, she had promised him her protection, and she would stand
by him to the last, even if they were doomed to perish together. So she
only shook her head, and smiled, and continued stitching at her work.
‘Your obstinacy is incredible to me,’ said Mr Courtney, half angrily,
‘and you put me in a very unpleasant position. I promised your father
(as far as I could) to supply his place to you. I look on you as second
only to my own child, yet you refuse to accept from me a father’s
protection, or to yield me the obedience of a daughter.’
‘I am sorry to appear ungrateful to you, Mr Courtney, but I have my own
reasons for remaining in my own home, and your arguments have no power
to shake them. Pray don’t be under any further apprehension for me--I
have none for myself; and if your workers _are_ disposed to mutiny, it
is all the more reason that I should remain amongst them, and try to
bring them to a better frame of mind.’
‘Ah, I have heard of your attempts in that direction already, Lizzie,
and that the coolies call you the angel of Beauregard! You are a good
girl, my dear, and may God reward you for all you have done. I am only
sorry that unfortuitous circumstances should have laid this burden
of secrecy upon you. But cheer up; the day will come, perhaps, when
it will be removed as unexpectedly as it appeared. And no one shall
rejoice more when that day comes than I shall, Lizzie.’
She sighed, but she answered nothing. She knew that if the day he spoke
of ever dawned, it would be to bow her benefactor’s head with shame.
‘And so all my entreaties are in vain?’ said Mr Courtney, as he rose to
go.
‘Yes, sir; I shall remain here; and honestly, I do not believe you have
any cause for fear.’
Yet she pondered over what he had told her all that day, not from any
dread of her own safety, but endeavouring to think of some plan for
getting Henri de Courcelles away before there was any possibility of
his detection. For she felt that if the coolies on Beauregard _did_
rise, and proceed to incendiarism or slaughter, Henri de Courcelles,
who had been their tyrannical master in the days gone by, and their
inciter to rebellion in the present, would be the first victim of
their lawless passions. Her mind was still running on the same subject
when the evening shadows closed, and Hugh Norris unexpectedly walked
into the room.
Her first feeling at seeing him was one of such unmitigated pleasure,
that she could not help betraying it.
‘Oh, Hugh--I mean, Captain Norris,’ she exclaimed, ‘are you really back
again? I am so glad--I didn’t think--I was afraid that--’ and here she
stopped, blushing for her incoherency.
‘Are you _really_ glad?’ he said, taking her hand, and warmly pressing
it, whilst his open countenance revealed his emotion. ‘Have you felt my
absence, Lizzie? Have our two months of separation stretched themselves
out to their full term?’
‘Indeed they have,’ she answered ingenuously. ‘I have been counting
the days till you should return. For we have passed through a terrible
time since you left us. But perhaps you have already heard of it.’
‘Indeed I have heard of it, Lizzie,’ he said gravely, ‘and I thank God
that it was no worse. What should I have done had you been involved in
this horrible catastrophe? But I am here, and you are safe, and I will
not leave San Diego again until I take you with me. Was I not right in
my forebodings?’
‘Partially so; but you see that no one has harmed me yet. What a quick
passage you have made this time, Captain Norris.’
‘Very quick; but you may imagine that I wasted no more time in England
than I could help, Lizzie. I was not out of sight of San Diego before
I was longing to get back again, and, thanks to favourable winds, and
an obliging supercargo, I have made the double passage in as short a
time as is possible. But I found time to accomplish my heart’s desire,
all the same.’
‘What was that?’ she demanded curiously.
‘Do you remember the packet of letters you threw me to read when we
last said good-bye, and you had to run off to attend to some woolly
infant or other?’
‘Yes, yes, I remember. It was Mammy Chloe’s baby,’ she answered,
laughing.
‘The first letter I opened surprised me more than anything has ever
done in my life before. It was from your late father to Mr Courtney,
and he signed himself “Herbert Ruthin,” and wrote in familiar terms of
his father and mother, Sir William and Lady Ruthin, and of their place
in Scotland--Aberdare.’
‘Well, well! of course; it was his own home,’ interrupted Lizzie
impatiently. ‘Why should it have so greatly surprised you?’
‘Because, Lizzie, my mother (whose maiden name was Mary Herbert) is a
second or third cousin of Lady Ruthin, and when her ladyship came to
Maidstone, which is close to mother’s home, a few years ago, she called
on us, and took dinner at the cottage.’
‘Oh, Hugh, how very, _very_ strange!’ cried Lizzie, forgetting
etiquette in her breathless surprise.
‘Yes, it is only another proof of how small the world is, and how we
are all but one large family. I remembered Lady Ruthin’s visit to my
mother distinctly, and also that I had heard she had had great trouble
about her second son Herbert, but I fancied he was dead. When I learnt
the truth from those letters, I determined to see Sir William and Lady
Ruthin on my return to England, and I did so.’
‘You _did_!’ echoed Lizzie; ‘and, oh! what did they say?’
‘I was only at Aberdare two hours, dearest,’ replied Captain Norris,
growing bolder as he gained his advantage, ‘but it was long enough to
serve my purpose. I told them everything, Lizzie,--what a good life
your dear father had lived here, expiating his youthful error by a
course of self-abnegation, and how like a martyr he had died, stricken
down by the exhaustion consequent on his labours for others. And I
soon found that if their pride and mortification have prevented their
speaking of their lost son for so many years past, it has not been
because the love of him has faded from their hearts. They concluded
he was dead long ago, but as I spoke of him, they were both melted
into tears, and reproached themselves bitterly for not having employed
stronger measures to ascertain his fate.’
‘My poor darling father!’ exclaimed Lizzie, weeping; ‘how I wish he
could have had the comfort of knowing that his parents felt for him.’
‘Doubtless he knows it now, dear. But my story is not done yet,
Lizzie. When I had told Sir William and Lady Ruthin all I knew about
your father, I spoke of _you_, and their excitement became painful to
witness. They are longing to see you, my dear, and make up to you for
all you have suffered on account of your poor father’s exile. I am the
bearer of a letter from them begging you at once to return to England
and place yourself under their protection. I shall see you in your
proper position at last, Lizzie, and reaping the reward you so richly
deserve. I cannot tell you how proud and happy I feel to have been made
the instrument of this change in your destinies.’
Lizzie looked up at him gratefully.
‘It was so good of you to think of it,’ she murmured; ‘but I can hardly
believe it yet. My dear father’s parents! They will seem like part of
himself to me, and especially if they cherish his memory. And I shall
owe it all to you. What can I do for you in return, Hugh?’
‘Only one thing, dear. Let me take you back to England, and present
you to your grandparents as _my wife_.’
‘Did you--did you--say anything to them about it?’ she asked timidly.
‘Well, I gave them a hint on the subject,’ he answered, laughing; ‘as
far, that is to say, as _I_ am concerned--I could not answer for _you_,
you know, because you have not yet answered for yourself.’
‘And how did they take it?’
‘They were good enough to say that they would make no objection
whatever to me as your husband, provided I gave up the sea and kept
you on dry land. And Sir William promised, moreover, in that case, to
help me to obtain suitable employment. And so you see, my dear, the
conclusion of the matter rests with you. What is your answer?’
She saw the deep blue honest eyes gazing fondly into her own, and had
just placed her hand in his preparatory to saying ‘Yes,’ when a loud
unmistakable cough sounded from the inner room.
‘What is that?’ exclaimed Hugh Norris, starting to his feet, his senses
always acutely alive to possible danger. ‘There is some one in your
father’s bedroom. Stand aside, Lizzie, and let me see who it is.’
He seized his stick--his only weapon--as he spoke, and was about to try
the locked door. But she interposed herself between him and it.
‘You cannot enter that room, Captain Norris. It is fastened.’
‘Then some one--a mutineer, perhaps--must have got in by the window. I
am certain my ears did not deceive me. The sound we heard proceeded
from that room, and I must satisfy myself on the subject.’
He was about to pass her, when she put out her hand to prevent him, and
he observed how very pale and strained her face (but a few moments ago
so smiling) had suddenly become.
‘Captain Norris, I hold this room sacred to myself, and neither you,
nor any man, shall cross the threshold.’
He looked full at her then in his amazement, and the truth seemed to
flash suddenly upon him.
‘You have been deceiving me!’ he exclaimed; ‘you have some one
concealed there whom you are ashamed to tell me of! Who is it?’ he
continued, in a low voice, which threatened danger,--‘that blackguard
De Courcelles, who would have slaughtered every European in the Fort,
if he had had his way, and whom I hear has been in hiding ever since?’
Lizzie was silent. Twice her mouth opened to utter a lie in the defence
of her former lover, and twice it died unuttered on her lips. Hugh
Norris knew her too well to misinterpret her want of courage. He threw
her one look of deep reproach, and, turning away, sat down by the
table, and buried his face in his hands. Lizzie could not withstand
the action. She crept after him, and laid her hand timidly upon his
shoulder.
‘Hugh,’ she whispered, ‘Hugh--’
But he jerked the kindly touch away, almost roughly.
‘Don’t come near me,’ he muttered, ‘Don’t speak to me. You are false,
and you have destroyed all my faith in womankind.’
‘No, no, Hugh! you shall not say that of me. Listen, and I will tell
you everything. I should have told it you in any case, for I sorely
need your counsel and advice, only we have had no time as yet to speak
of any one but ourselves. But you are good, and noble, and true, and
if you do not approve of my action, you will at least not betray it.
I will not deceive you, and I think, when you know all, you will
acknowledge you would have done the same. Henri de Courcelles is in
that room, a fugitive hiding from the law! No, don’t look at me like
that! I call Heaven to witness he is not there as my lover, but that I
would have extended the same succour to any fellow-creature who threw
himself upon my mercy. Hugh! I heard that he had escaped from the Fort
prison, and eluded the pursuit of the police by taking refuge in the
Alligator Swamp. Could I have left him there to perish by a miserable
death, without making one effort to save him?’
Captain Norris looked up at her in amazement.
‘But what could _you_ do?’ he inquired. ‘Not a man in San Diego would
venture to penetrate the horrors of the swamp, unless he wished to die.’
‘Yet a _woman_ did,’ she whispered.
‘Lizzie, you do not mean to tell me that you went yourself?--that you
risked the awful dangers of the miasma and the alligators, for the sake
of this man, and that you live to tell the tale?’
‘The danger was not so great for me as for another, Hugh, because I
knew the proper preventatives to carry with me. Anyway, I went, and
I was successful. I found this unhappy and misguided man nearly
unconscious from the effects of the poisonous air he was inhaling, and
I brought him safely out of it, and have hid him here for the last
two days, until I could devise some plan to get him away from San
Diego. Will you help me, Hugh? I know it is a great thing to ask at
your hands; and I have not another friend whom I would trust with the
secret; but I shall not rest till I know he is secure from suffering a
malefactor’s death upon the gallows.’
‘He deserves it, Lizzie, if any one ever did.’
‘I know it! but if we all received our deserts in this world, how badly
we should fare! Hugh, you will believe me when I tell you that such
love as I once entertained for Henri de Courcelles is all past, and for
ever. I see his character in its true light at last,--as vindictive
and revengeful and untrue! But that does not alter the case that once
I thought him good enough to be my husband, and mine is a heart that
cannot entirely forget!’
‘What do you want me to do for him, Lizzie?’
‘To get him down to the docks in disguise, and ship him on board one
of the vessels there that are bound for Spain or America. It would be
cruel to send him anywhere else. And if that should be impossible to do
all at once, couldn’t you let him stay on the _Trevelyan_ till you are
able to send him away?’ continued Lizzie wistfully.
‘You ask me to do a very wrong and dangerous thing, my dear,--to
harbour a rebel against the British Government, and cheat the gallows
of its just due.’
‘No, Hugh--to succour a wretched fellow-creature, who was half driven
to madness by a woman’s treachery, before he dreamt of committing such
a crime. I cannot tell you all his story, but if you knew it, you would
pity him, as I do.’
‘Nothing of the sort. I despise the fool for having thrown away such
a heart as he had found in yours! Why, Lizzie! you are a heroine, and
the noblest woman I ever met! Well, and suppose I become a traitor to
my Queen and country at your command, and help this rascally lover of
yours to escape the ends of justice, what reward am I to expect for the
risk I shall run?’
‘What reward do you want?’ she answered, smiling at him through her
tears. ‘You shall name it, Hugh, for I see you are going to do this
great and generous thing for my sake, and hold out a helping hand to
your unfortunate rival.’
‘Promise to become my wife, Lizzie! Nothing short of that will quite
satisfy me of the purity of your benevolence for De Courcelles--because
I know your nobility of character too well to think you would ever
bestow your hand on one man whilst there was a remnant of love left in
your heart for another.’
‘You only do me justice there, Hugh; for if I am not _true_ I am
nothing. Yes, I will be your wife, whenever you choose to ask me, and
(God helping me) a good and faithful one.’
‘And a loving one into the bargain?’ he returned interrogatively. ‘I
will not accept your hand without your heart, Lizzie.’
‘Can any wife be good and faithful if she is not loving, Hugh? But do
not be afraid! _I love you._ Is that enough?’
‘Then come to my arms!’ he exclaimed, as he rose and held them out
to her. She was hesitating just a little, not entirely from coyness,
but because it is so sweet to dally with our happiness--when a low
murmuring sound, like the first menacing tones of thunder, or the
moaning of a sleuthhound when it finds the trail, which evidently
proceeded from the negroes’ quarters, made them start asunder, and
change colour.
‘What was that?’ demanded Lizzie, under her breath, as Hugh Norris
threw his arm round her for protection.
‘It is the groaning of a crowd,’ he answered. ‘It is the first note of
mutiny. Lizzie, there is something wrong! For God’s sake, let me take
you away from this.’
But she struggled to free herself.
‘If they are rising, Hugh, let me go to them! No one understands them
as I do! Let me speak, and they will obey me! I can do with them as I
like.’
But before he had time to put into words his entreaty that she would
resign herself to his protection, a piercing shriek seemed to rend the
evening air, and the next minute Rosa, the yellow girl, rushed into the
room, with Maraquita’s infant in her arms.
‘Oh, Missy Liz,’ she cried, ‘what have they done to my baby? Dis
crowd of niggers is all cryin’ out for dere rights, and down with de
planters, and I coming along, and dey pulled de poor baby from my arms,
and hit it on de head with a stone. Oh, Missy Liz, I couldn’t help it!
I screamed to dem to leave my poor baby alone! But dey call out ’tis
Missy Quita’s chile and Massa Courcelles’, and den dey strike it again.
And the baby’s berry sick, Missy Liz--berry sick, indeed,’ continued
Rosa, weeping, and rocking the bundle in her arms.
‘Give it to me,’ said Lizzie calmly, though her face was deathly white,
but not so white as that of Maraquita’s infant, which lay calm and
peaceful in the sleep of death, with a discoloured bruise upon its
little forehead, where the cruel stone had struck it.
‘She is _dead_!’ said Lizzie solemnly, as she placed the body on the
table. She did not shed a tear as she did so, but Hugh Norris, looking
up at her, marked the deep lines which suppressed emotion had drawn
upon her forehead, and thought he had never seen her look so stern
before.
‘My poor little Mary,’ she said, in a low voice, as she gazed upon
the infant’s dead form. ‘This is the first-fruits of the Beauregard
rebellion, Hugh! They have risen at last, and they will not stop here!
What will become of them all at the White House?’
‘We must give the alarm at once,’ said Captain Norris. ‘They may not
be prepared for this outbreak. But Lizzie, I will not go and leave you
here! If you wish your friends to be put on their guard, you must come
with me.’
‘It is too late,’ she answered: ‘they are already upon us! We should
only walk into their midst. Listen to that--’
She held up her finger, and Captain Norris could distinctly hear the
yelling of a mob of coolies advancing on the plantation, and see the
flaming torches which they carried in their hands, whilst in another
moment two or three random shots proved that they were carrying
firearms, and prepared to use them.’
‘The devils!’ cried Norris. ‘Is it possible they can have the heart to
injure _you_, after all you have done for them?’
‘No, no, massa!’ exclaimed the yellow girl; ‘coolies never hurting
Missy Liz; they love her too much for dat. Only dey want revenge on
Massa Courtney and de Governor and Missy Quita. Missy Liz, dey will
fire de White House for sure, and kill de Governor! Hark! they hab
passed oder side of plantation. Dey go by Oleander Bungalow to de big
house, and nebber come near Missy Liz at all.’
‘They have come near enough, in killing my poor baby!’ exclaimed
Lizzie, weeping, as she kissed the dead child. ‘If they love _me_, why
couldn’t they have spared _her_?’
‘’Cause she belong to dat De Courcelles, and grow up bad like him and
Missy Quita. Dat what dem trashy niggers say,’ replied Rosa, joining
her sobs to those of her mistress.
‘Is it possible this child belongs to Lady Johnstone?’ demanded Norris.
‘Oh, hush, Hugh! don’t mention it, even _here_!’ said Lizzie. ‘I have
kept the secret for _her_ sake--not his!’
‘Oh, my brave girl, your love has indeed earned the martyr’s crown!’ he
answered, looking at her with the deepest admiration and respect. ‘But
hark, Lizzie! Surely the mob have turned this way.’
At that moment a kind of sudden rush through the darkness outside was
followed by the entrance of Mr and Mrs Courtney, with Maraquita and
Sir Russell Johnstone! The women were in their evening dresses--half
fainting with fear, and their protectors were almost as agitated as
themselves.
‘Lizzie,’ cried Mr Courtney, ‘give us shelter, for God’s sake! Hide
us in your rooms, and this murderous crew will not dare to follow
us there. They are fond of you, Lizzie, and they will believe what
you say. Make them hear reason, in Heaven’s name! or we shall all be
slaughtered before your eyes!’
‘Quick! quick! in here!’ she exclaimed, as she thrust the whole party
into her own bedroom, and closed the door. ‘Go with them, Hugh,’ she
said, when they had concealed themselves, ‘and let me bring these
mutineers to reason.’
‘And leave you to fall a prey to their baffled wrath, or become a
billet for the first bullet that strays this way, Lizzie,’ he answered
tenderly. ‘No, my dear. You have said you love me; and if we have to
die, we will die together.’
Before she could answer him, a crew of dusky faces were surrounding
the bungalow, blocking up the verandah, pressing into the doors, and
filling up the framework of the windows.
‘Whar’s de Gubnor and de planter? Is dem in hiding here?’ they shouted.
‘Gib dem up, Missy Liz, or we must enter de bungalow, and we doesn’t
want to do dat. Gib dem up, missy, and don’t you be skeered--no nigger
hurting one hair ob your head.’
‘I’m not afraid of you for myself, my friends,’ she exclaimed,
standing out boldly to the front, and facing the crowd of rebels, ‘for
you have always been good and kind to me; but if you love me, you will
go away to your own quarters, and leave my house alone!’
‘D’rectly we finds de Gubnor and de planter, Missy Liz. But we’se sworn
to ruin dem, and we must do it--dat’s so!’
‘And de Gubnor’s wife!’ shrieked a female voice, that might be heard
all over the bungalow. ‘Dat gal what pretends to be so good, and dat is
de moder of dat baby you keep, Missy Liz. She and Massa Courcelles know
all about dat chile; and I wish dey could swing together!’
‘Hush, Jerusha, hush! Go away, and keep your evil tongue to yourself!’
cried Lizzie.
‘Dat’s true, and you know it, Missy Liz. And de Governor shall know it,
too, and Massa Courtney, and all de world, dat she am no better than de
poor coolie gals what go all wrong.’
‘Jerusha, I _implore_ you, for God’s sake!’ commenced Lizzie again.
But before she could finish her entreaty, Maraquita had pushed open
the bedroom door, and stood beside her, pale and trembling, but not
courageous, except with the courage born of despair.
‘It _is_ true!’ she gasped, rather than said, ‘and I am ready to
confess it. No, Lizzie, don’t try to prevent my speaking. Everybody
may hear me now. I can suffer in secret no longer. Father, I am not
what you thought me! I am a sinful girl, and I have let the burden of
my shameful secret rest on Lizzie’s shoulders. These people only say
what is true. They hate me for what I have done, and want to revenge
themselves on us all, for my sake. Perhaps, now that I have confessed
my sin, they will pity and forgive me.’
She sunk exhausted with fear and shame on Lizzie’s shoulder as she
finished her recital. Sir Russell Johnstone and her parents were
standing by, horror-struck by what they had heard, and forgetful of
their own safety in the agony of witnessing her humiliation. But Lizzie
was the only person who addressed her.
‘Hush, Quita, you have said enough; and surely all will think you have
suffered sufficiently, and need no further punishment.’
But the continual groaning and muttering of the crowd outside did not
seem as though their anger was appeased, and Quita shuddered as she
heard it.
‘Give me my child!’ she exclaimed wildly. ‘Everything is slipping from
me. My father and mother stand by in silence, my husband will drive me
from his house. Give me something that I can call my own! Lizzie, I
want my child!’
‘_There_ is your child, Quita,’ replied her adopted sister sadly, as
she led her to the table. ‘God has already called it through their
hands to Himself. They would not leave you even that poor consolation,
my unhappy Quita.’
‘_Dead!_’ cried the unfortunate Lady Russell, as she gazed upon her
infant’s breathless form, ‘_dead!_ Oh, Henri, Henri, why was I ever
untrue to you, and to myself? My punishment is harder than I can bear.’
As she sunk upon her knees, and her pitiful cry of ‘Henri’ sounded on
the air, De Courcelles, unable to restrain his feelings longer, burst
open his prison door and rushed in upon them.
‘Yes,’ he exclaimed triumphantly, as he glared round upon the parents
and husband of Maraquita, ‘she speaks the truth at last. I had sworn
to have her life, in exchange for that of which she has robbed me; but
she has avenged herself. Take me prisoner again, as soon as you like. I
shall die contented, to know what her future life must be.’
‘Dey nebber _take_ you!’ cried a shrill voice at the open casement,
which was immediately followed by a shot, which brought Henri de
Courcelles to the ground.
‘_Jerusha!_’ he muttered between his teeth as he fell, with the dark
blood and froth bubbling from his lips.
Lizzie was at his side in a moment tearing away his shirt, and striving
to stem the current of his life. But it was in vain. The overseer had
met his fate at last, and was rapidly bleeding to death.
‘Henri,’ she cried, in a voice of distress, ‘I can do nothing for you!
You are going to God! May He bless and forgive you.’
‘As--you--have--done,’ he gasped out, as his lifeless head fell from
her arm.
Sir Russell Johnstone had stood by, stern and miserable, watching the
pitiable sight, and listening to the confession which dashed all the
brightness from his married life, but Maraquita and her parents had
hidden themselves away, unable to bear such a strain upon their nervous
systems. Hugh Norris seeing that all was over, came forward to take
Lizzie in his arms; but she turned from him, and walked bravely into
the midst of the mutineers. Their flaring torches fell full on her
ashen face, and lighted up the large tears standing in her eyes; but
she stood before them without one sign of fear, and her voice was loud
and determined.
‘Are you satisfied now?’ she demanded boldly, ‘or are not two lives
sufficient to gorge your lust for blood? Do you know what you have
done? You say you _love_ me, and would not harm a hair of my head,
yet you have killed the man you knew was dear to me! You have made me
risk my life in vain. Two days ago I walked into the Alligator Swamp
alone, to find Henri de Courcelles, and save him from the gallows, and
I brought him here, only to fall a victim to your barbarity. Was that
love for _me_? And the poor baby too--the little innocent child that I
was bringing up as my own, and that had never done you any harm, you
must needs take that from me too. Now, what more do you want? Is it my
own life? You may as well kill me as well as the rest. Perhaps I am not
more worthy to live, in your estimation, than they were.’
At this harangue, the ringleaders of the mutiny drew back abashed. They
had not calculated that in taking their revenge on Henri de Courcelles
they would injure their ‘Missy Liz.’
‘Missy Liz, no talking like dat,’ said an aged negro, speaking for
the rest. ‘Missy know we lub her, and call her de Good Angel ob
Beauregard.’
‘Then if you love me, coolies, prove it by what you do. Give up this
hateful mutiny against those who only desire your good, and let the
Governor, and Mr and Mrs Courtney, return to the White House in peace.
If you don’t, I warn you my life will be the sacrifice, for you shall
trample over my body before you enter the bungalow in search of them.’
She placed her two hands on the lintels of the doorposts as she spoke,
to bar their way, and the negroes saw she was in earnest.
‘Go back to your quarters, my friends,’ she continued, in a softer
voice. ‘In my name, and the name of all whom I love, I beg of you to
return quietly to your homes, and relinquish your murderous design.’
‘For _your_ sake den, Missy Liz, for _your_ sake,’ replied the coolies,
as, startled, and somewhat ashamed of themselves, for they had no
real cause of complaint, and had only been incited on by the example
of others, the crowd broke up into groups, and commenced to walk back
slowly to their homes. And then Lizzie turned round, and threw herself
weeping into Hugh Norris’s arms.
THE END.
COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Emboldened text is surrounded by equals signs: =bold=.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.