"MY BRIDE OR THE BRIDE OF DEATH!"
"And like Communists, as mad, as disloyal,
My fierce emotions roam out of their lair;
They hate King Reason for being loyal,
They would fire his castle and burn him there.
O, Love, they would clasp you, and crush you, and kill you,
In the insurrection of control....
And there is no fear, and hell has no terror
To change or alter a love like mine."--E. W. W.
Precious hastened to the nearest milliner's from Madame La Mode's,
and having matched the ribbons desired, sent them by messenger to the
modiste. Her plausible errand thus dispatched, she covered her lovely
face and hair with a thick black lace veil, and hastened to the address
Ethel had given her, eager to dispatch her mission of kindness, and to
get away as soon as possible from the poverty-stricken and unfamiliar
neighborhood. She was as dainty as a princess, our pretty Precious, and
could not help finding poverty repulsive.
So her aristocratic little nose was quite high in the air as she
stepped across the threshold of the vile-smelling tobacco shop, and
approaching a parchment-faced, bewigged old woman, much bent with age,
queried timorously:
"Does Hetty Wilkins live here?"
The old shopwoman eyed her closely through immense goggle glasses, then
answered gruffly:
"Certainly she lives here; but you beant the young gal she wore
expectin'. She had black eyes and hair."
"I am her sister. She sent me, because she was sick and could not
come herself. May I see Hetty at once, please?" asked Precious in a
depressed voice, for the squalor of the place lowered her girlish
spirits unconsciously.
"In course you may see her; but she's very bad to-day, and I don't
think she'll live long," was the curt reply, as the woman closed the
shop door, placed a bar across it, and then turned to explain:
"I have to shut the door when I go upstairs to Hetty, because the bad
boys will come in and steal everything."
She led the way through a back room up a dark, narrow stairway with a
door at the foot of it, to a small, close-smelling bedroom as squalid
as the rest of the place. There, on a hard bed, among soiled pillows,
lay the once pretty, coquettish Hetty, who had been so anxious to marry
above her station.
Poor Hetty! there was no mistake in her claim that she was dying of a
broken heart, for anguish was stamped on the wan, haggard features and
gleamed out of the sunken eyes beneath the tangled locks of hair that
strayed neglected over her ashen brow.
"There's Hetty, lady, and I hope you'll stay a long time and talk to
her, she's so lonesome a-layin' here all day by herself," croaked the
grandmother, pushing a chair to the bedside. Then she lumbered heavily
downstairs again, coolly locking the door at the foot.
Then she closed up the shop for the day, after putting a sign in the
window to that effect. The next move was to ascend to another room,
where her worthy son was shaving off his beard and arraying his very
good figure in purple and fine linen, hoping to propitiate his expected
guest.
"She's here!" she chuckled significantly, and he gave a cry of joy.
"Good! She shall not escape me again."
"She's in Hetty's room. You better hurry! That girl will tell tales."
"No matter what she tells, it cannot alter my lady's fate. My bride or
the bride of death, she shall be ere tomorrow's dawn! I am desperate
with suspense and thwarted love. Life without that girl can no longer
be borne. We must live together or die together, as she wills to-day!"
His eyes gleamed with something almost like madness, but the woman did
not try to dissuade him from the terrible purpose he had expressed. She
knew from the experience of long months how futile she would find such
an effort.
When beautiful Precious, in her rustling silks and laces, bent over
the sick girl with compassionate eyes, Hetty started in surprise and
horror, muttering feebly:
"Is that you, Miss Precious, or am I dreaming? This morphine they give
me makes me have strange dreams sometimes."
"Poor Hetty!" and the soft little hand brushed the straggling locks
from the fevered brow. "Yes, it is Precious. My sister was ill, and
could not come to see you, as she promised, so she sent me to bring
you some money for wine and dainties," and Precious poured the little
shower of golden coin out upon the thin counterpane.
Hetty's big hollow eyes dilated wildly, and she gasped:
"There's some mistake. Miss Ethel didn't promise to come here. I
haven't seen or heard of her since the time I went to her and she gave
me money. Oh, Miss Precious, everything ain't right about this! You've
been fooled into coming here, you sweet lamb, and Lindsey Warwick must
be at the bottom of it. Oh, the fiend! How dare he do it? You're in
deadly peril, poor child, and you must go away at once, if you can.
There! run down the steps, get away from this vile place as fast as you
can!"
Precious flew to do her bidding, but she found the door locked against
her.
Ghastly pale and trembling, she sank into the chair beside Hetty.
"You are right. I'm trapped, for the door is already locked!" she
gasped; then exclaimed: "Oh, Hetty, Hetty, is it true? Is Lindsey
Warwick here?"
"Yes, poor child, it is true. Oh, Lord, spare me breath to tell her
all the truth! Oh, Miss Precious, you know how foolish I was about my
beau that was courting me when your mother sent me off? She was right.
He was Lindsey Warwick, but I believed in him. I thought he was Watson
Hunter, as he said he was. When I came to Washington I found him out.
He was living here, and I taxed him with being the drawing-master, but
he denied it. He swore he loved me, and brought a preacher here and
married me. At least I thought he was a preacher, Miss Precious, and
believed myself an honest wife. Oh, my Lord! my Lord! how my life has
been ruined by that devil!" groaning. "Oh, my dearie, my innocent dove,
he led me a dog's life, but I stuck to him all the while with devotion,
doing everything he bade me, even to blackmailing poor Miss Ethel and
stripping her of money for his sake! At last, when I refused to go back
again, he beat me cruelly and told me I wasn't his wife. It was a sham,
that marriage. He only courted me to find out things about you to get
you into his power again, and he would have you soon, for he'd make
your sister help him. Then I fell down, dead, I hoped, but after awhile
I came to, lying on this bed, ill, and too weak ever to rise from it
again, dying by inches of neglect, privation, and despair. And now, my
poor, innocent little one, he has got you in his power, and whatever is
to become of you I cannot tell."
The door opened softly and a mocking voice replied:
"I can tell you the end, Hetty. We will get married and live happy ever
after."
"Lindsey Warwick!" shrieked Precious wildly.