"ARE YOU GLAD THAT REVENGE LIES IN YOUR HANDS?"
"Some there must be who must bear the burden and the loss;
Some there must be who must wear the thorny crown and cross.
"Some there must be who must lay their hopes the altar on;
Some there must be who must say, 'Thy will, not mine, be done!'"
--SUSIE M. BEST.
A desperate courage upheld Precious through that tragic scene, but at
its fatal denouement she rushed back to Hetty, falling on her knees by
the bed, and bursting into convulsive sobs.
And for a moment no other sound filled the room, for the sick girl,
struck dumb by the suddenness of it all, could not utter a word, only
lie still among her pillows breathing in great strangling gasps, like
one dying. For those other two, they lay still and voiceless, stricken
down in the fullness of their evil career, just as victory in their
evil designs seemed assured. But she, the innocent victim of their
persecution, sobbed on, distressfully, in the revulsion of feeling from
fear and desperation, to relief mixed with shuddering horror at the
fate of her enemies.
Suddenly Hetty began to recover her dazed senses, and moving a
trembling hand touched Precious gently.
"My dear, my dear, don't sob so hard. Try to collect yourself and
listen to me," she breathed faintly, and the nervous girl lifted her
head, murmuring:
"Oh, Hetty, Hetty, can't we get out of this horrid place? I'm stifling,
dying almost of fear and horror."
"Yes, we will get away as soon as possible," and Hetty with sudden
strength crawled out of bed and dragged on her clothes.
"Now, my dear young lady, I have a plan for you," she panted. "You
must not be known at all in this dreadful affair, for it would make
a dreadful sensation very unpleasant to your folks. Here is my plan:
There is a side entrance on an alleyway to this place, and I'll creep
down and let you out of it. Then you must go away quietly back to your
home, and say nothing, unless you choose to confide in your parents.
I'll stay indoors awhile, then I'll creep out in the street and give
the alarm that my husband and his mother have killed themselves
scuffling over a handsome revolver. No one need ever know anything
more, for they cannot doubt my story. The neighbors all believe that I
was Warwick's wife, as I should have been. So go now, dear, and Heaven
bless you, poor child."
Her poor face was already beaded with death-dew, and she staggered so
that she had to cling to Precious as they made their way down to the
alley, just inside the door that she was to go out by. Precious paused
and looked anxiously into the ghastly face with its glassy eyes.
"Oh, Hetty, you do look so ill! I can't bear to leave you like this. I
shall tell mamma, and we will have you cared for kindly."
"Thank you, thank you, dear Miss Precious, but don't worry over me.
I'll soon be all right. Now go, for every moment you stay is perilous."
"Bless you, Hetty, for your goodness to me. I shall tell mamma about
it. She will be so grateful, and we will do everything for you. Now
good-by, and God keep you till we meet again."
She pressed the cold, damp hand fervently, and hurried away, little
dreaming that it was a dying woman she left, and that her fervent "God
keep you till we meet again," meant for all eternity.
With the thick veil over her face, she darted unobserved out of the
noisome alley, gained the street, and turned the very first corner into
a side street. Ten minutes of rapid walking brought her back to Madame
La Mode's, where the carriage still waited, although she had been gone
almost two hours. The obsequious footman helped her in, and she sank
half-fainting among the cushions.
"Saved! Saved!" she thought, with silent gratitude to Heaven as the
carriage rolled homeward, and she wondered bitterly what Ethel would
say on her return and escape from the fate at which she had connived.
"Ah! my sister, to whose happiness I sacrificed my own, how could you
be so cruel?" she wept convulsively.
Meanwhile the dying Hetty, too weak to walk, crawled through the narrow
alleyway out to the street, a most pitiable object with her wasted
form, ghastly face, and glassy eyes already dim with approaching
death. Very soon a crowd collected about her, to whom she told an
incoherent story that her husband and his mother, while struggling over
a revolver, had both come to their deaths. Then having exhausted her
feeble strength in explaining the tragedy, the poor creature's head
drooped heavily, and with one or two convulsive gasps her spirit fled
from its earthly tenement.
The evening papers, in glaring head-lines, told the story of the
tragedy enacted in the humble tobacco shop, and did not fail to
add that the man had been discovered to be the notorious Lindsey
Warwick, who had abducted Senator Winans' youngest daughter from the
Inauguration Ball, and for whose apprehension the statesman had offered
ten thousand dollars. It was added that he had afterward married a girl
in his own rank, and had beaten her so cruelly that she had never been
able to leave her bed since, and had now died of her injuries.
Some relatives of poor unfortunate Hetty came forward, claimed her
body, and buried her decently. Lindsey Warwick and his mother were
interred at public expense, and when those three died there was but
one living soul that held the secret that lay so darkly on Ethel's
conscience--the secret that twice she had betrayed her innocent sister
to a terrible fate from which the mercy of Heaven had delivered her
safely. At last Precious knew all her sister's guilt. Would she take
revenge for her wrongs by denouncing Ethel?
She reached home with a prayer of thanksgiving on her lips, so glad of
its peace and security again after the perils of the last few hours;
but as soon as she crossed the threshold she saw that there was an
unwonted commotion and excitement about the house.
"Have they missed me already? Have they found out anything?" she
thought in alarm; but directly she heard the servants confiding to
each other that Miss Winans had been taken dangerously ill, and that
the wedding now so very near at hand would have to be postponed, they
feared.
Then Norah came to meet her pet.
"Oh, my dear, how ill and pale you look! What has happened to you?" she
demanded anxiously.
"Oh, Norah, they are saying that Ethel is very ill!" faltered Precious,
and when she reached her own room she sank tremblingly upon a sofa.
"Miss Ethel has an attack of hysteria," explained Norah. "She had a
long swoon, and when she revived went into wild hysterics. The doctor
and your mother are with her now, and when I came out awhile ago she
was shrieking for you as though she thought you were in the greatest
danger somewhere. I think if you will go in and see her that the sight
of you will do her good."
"I will go at once!" cried Precious eagerly, and glided pale as death
into the sick-room, her heart beating with great strangling throbs of
emotion.
She crossed the floor to the bed, and saw Ethel writhing among the
pillows like one distraught, her dark eyes glaring wildly on the
anxious faces around her, while from her ashen lips came over and over
one yearning cry:
"Precious! Oh, bring Precious home!"
When Precious heard that entreating cry she felt that Ethel had
repented of her sin, that she was not as wicked as she had tried to be.
The knowledge brought keenest joy to her heart.
"Oh, Ethel, dear sister, I am here!" she cried in a voice of heavenly
forgiveness.
Until that moment Ethel had seemed not to recognize any one, had called
no one but her sister, but as that sweet voice came to her ears she
looked up with a wild cry and clasped Precious in her arms.
"Oh, my darling, you are safe! You have come back to me!" she cried,
and fainted for the third time that morning.
"She has had some strange hallucination about her sister, but she will
be better now," said the physician, and he was right, for when she
recovered she was calmer, the light of reason shone in her dark eyes.
"I am better now. You may all go away but Precious. I want her to stay
by me a little while," she murmured faintly.
They all withdrew but Precious, to whom she clung with eager hands.
When they were alone they looked eagerly into each other's eyes, and
Ethel saw that Precious knew all. A deep and heavy sigh breathed over
her lips, and she murmured:
"You have escaped your enemies, thank Heaven! Nothing else matters now,
but tell me how it all happened."
And the trembling Precious, in low, agitated whispers, told her all
that had transpired except Hetty's death, of which she did not yet know.
Ethel listened in silent joy. She rejoiced in the death of her enemies,
and she realized that her guilty secret belonged to no one now but
Precious. In those small, white hands rested her fate.
Her dark, anguished eyes searched the pale, lovely face with eager
inquiry, and she faltered:
"You know all my sins against you now, Precious--all my envious hate
and jealousy. Are you glad that revenge lies in your hands?"
"Revenge!" exclaimed Precious, and Ethel answered:
"You will betray me now to Arthur, to papa and mamma, to the whole
world!"
Precious looked searchingly into the dark eyes, circled with heavy
purplish rings since morning.
"My sister, do you repent?" she asked solemnly.
"Repent! Ah, Heaven, I should have died or gone mad if harm had come to
that little golden head!" breathed Ethel huskily.
"And you will never hate me any more?" sighed Precious.
"Never! never!"
"Then let us speak no more of that wicked thing--revenge. Try to be
good after this, dear sister; try to be worthy of Arthur, and I will
forgive you everything," noble little Precious answered, sealing the
promise of forgiveness with a gentle kiss.
"You are an angel!" sighed Ethel from her overburdened heart, and drew
from under her pillow the sealed letter she had sent to Madame La
Mode's by the maid.
"Read this and you will see how soon I repented of my sin!" she said
eagerly, and when Precious had read it through her blue eyes filled
with tears and she cried:
"I am glad you repented so soon, and if I had not left the modiste's in
such a hurry to perform a charitable deed I would have received your
message in time to have been prevented from going."
They talked earnestly together some time longer, and it was decided to
keep to themselves the story of that morning's adventure. Poor Ethel,
she still clung to Arthur and the hope of becoming his wife, and in the
safety insured by Lindsey Warwick's death and her sister's forgiveness,
she thought that no further obstacle could come between her and
happiness. Although sincerely repentant for her cruelty to Precious,
the leaven of selfishness still worked in her nature, and she could not
resign the joy within her reach--the joy of becoming Arthur's wife, and
trying to win back his heart.