A DUEL ON THE BEACH.
Mr. Irwin was a nervous, timid man, and the two women clinging to him
alarmed him almost as much as did the mysterious shots from the shore.
He saw the captain of the yacht hovering near, and beckoned him
frantically to his assistance. The jolly sailor approached and
exclaimed:
"Ladies, ladies, you need not feel the least alarm. It's only somebody
shooting seagulls."
This plausible excuse had an instant effect on the mistress and maid.
They released the trembling Irwin, and Nita blushingly apologized for
her extreme nervousness. In a few minutes more the captain observed:
"I hear the dip of the oars. Mr. Mountcastle is returning."
And so it proved. But, alas, for Nita, Dorian was not returning as he
went. He lay prostrate in the bottom of the boat, an attentive surgeon
bending over him, while Van Hise plied the oars with ease and skill.
The yacht captain, who had been straining his eyes across the rapidly
darkening water, turned and whispered to Lizette:
"You had better take your mistress into the cabin now, for there has
been a duel over there between Mr. Kayne and Mr. Mountcastle, and----"
But he never finished the sentence, for Nita's quick ears had overheard,
and she fell upon the deck with a shriek of despair.
"Dorian is dead!"
But Dorian was not dead, although severely wounded. It was Donald Kayne
who lay upon the shore stiff and stark, slain by his friend for a
woman's sake.
The accursed serpent ring had already borne ghastly fruit, just as the
chuckling old miser had foreseen when he forced Nita to wear it as the
price of life and liberty.
"A most deplorable affair," Captain Van Hise said later, when telling
the horrified Irwin about it. "You see, Kayne had said something
reflecting on the lady Dorian is to marry, and so he challenged him. I
was his second, and Kayne came down with his own second and the two
surgeons on his own yacht, so both principals were ready for instant
flight if the authorities got wind of the duel. Kayne's yacht is at the
regular landing, half a mile from here, and my friend came to this point
to take up the lady, and also to be handy to the dueling-ground over
yonder. Well, it was a gallant affair. They fought at ten paces with
navy revolvers. Both escaped the first fire, but at the second, Donald
Kayne fell dead and Dorian severely wounded. And, sure enough, the
authorities were down on us. We just barely got our man into the boat
and pulled out before they galloped on horseback to the meeting-place,
and hallooed after our party."
Mr. Irwin was startled, distressed, indignant.
"This is most outrageous!" he exclaimed. "I have been grossly deceived
by your friend. He employed me to perform a marriage ceremony, not to
attend him to a dueling-ground."
"The marriage all in good time, reverend sir. The duel was merely an
episode by the way," returned Captain Van Hise airily.
"But I shall be mixed up in this notorious affair. It will do me
incalculable injury. I demand to be set ashore at once," groaned the
timorous preacher.
"Impossible, my dear sir, dearly as I would love to oblige you. The
yacht is already under way escaping pursuit. Besides, you may be needed
presently to soothe the last hours of a dying sinner, which is even more
important than the tying of a matrimonial knot, I take it; so be
tranquil, please. No harm shall come to you from this."
The clergyman saw that all remonstrances were useless; he must accept
the situation.
"And you believe that Mr. Mountcastle will die?" he asked in a tone of
awe.
"Can't say, but hope not. The doctor is dressing his wound
now--shoulder--ball went clean through. Poor fellow's having hard luck
lately! Stabbed and left for dead on the beach three weeks ago, and
barely out of bed when he came to New York to challenge Kayne. Yes,
dismal affair, very, but couldn't be helped, you know."
The half-crazed Nita had already been told part of the truth by Captain
Van Hise.
"Donald Kayne was mortally wounded, we fear," was the way he put it
about Dorian's opponent.
She lay weeping bitterly in the cabin attended by faithful Lizette. The
surgeon would not let her see Dorian yet in spite of her prayers.
"The wound is not necessarily dangerous, but he is weak from loss of
blood, and so agitated that he cannot bear any excitement," he said.
But when the wound was dressed, and he was resting easily, he was
permitted a few minutes' conversation with Captain Van Hise. Then the
jolly soldier said ruefully:
"I can't refuse you, Dorian, since the surgeon won't let you talk for
yourself, but, by Jupiter, I'd rather face the enemy's guns any day than
that girl with this story! What a cheek you must have had to plan such a
thing!"
"She will forgive me even if she refuses to grant my prayer," answered
Dorian, for he knew women better than the gallant captain, who had wooed
the goddess of war more assiduously than the goddess of love.
So it came to pass that while the yacht _Nita_ skimmed lightly over the
moon-lighted waters, Captain Van Hise sat in the cabin with her
namesake, floundering through a story that would, he fully believed,
enrage her so that she would never, never marry Dorian, and, more than
likely, would never even forgive him.
"He is so weak and nervous, Miss Farnham, the surgeon won't let him do
his own talking, so, as I've been his confidant in the whole affair, he
has sent me to tell you--to tell you----" The doughty warrior broke
down and mopped his damp brow, murmuring under his breath:
"Blamed if I don't wish myself well out of this!"
"To tell me----" echoed Nita, with heart-piercing anxiety. And thus
encouraged, he returned to the charge:
"You'll understand it all better, my dear young lady, when I tell you
that Dorian has always been a spoiled boy--had everything he wanted all
his life--cousin of mine, known him from boyhood--so, of course, he was
frantic when you vowed you wouldn't marry him for a whole
year--eternity, you know, to a man in love. Don't blame me, please! but
as soon as the details of the duel was arranged, Dorian planned to elope
with you."
"Oh, Heaven!" cried Nita, in wildest alarm, and her face became ashen.
"Don't excite yourself--please don't, Miss Farnham," cried the soldier
anxiously. "Or at least let me get through first, then rave if you
will."
Lizette moved nearer to her young lady's side in mute distress, and he
went on eagerly:
"Didn't you think it strange, Dorian's inviting you to go yachting with
him by moonlight? Bless you! he brought along a preacher--Irwin, you
know--to marry you to-night; that is, of course, if you were willing--no
gentleman would want to marry a lady without her consent. You see, he
didn't expect to get wounded in the duel, and--oh, a mere episode
that--and so, if you'll excuse my bluntness--here we are at sea, afraid
to go back because the authorities are after us about the duel, and it
might be best to stay away till the excitement blows over. And Dorian is
wounded, and maybe you would think it real romantic to nurse him. Now
would you be willing--so Dorian sent me to ask you--to marry him now!"
He drew breath and looked at her apprehensively. Lizette had uttered a
smothered little shriek, but Nita sat speechless and terrified, as if
she had seen a ghost. All in a moment the enormity of her folly and her
sin rushed over her.
Oh, why had she let him love her? Why had she, in her weakness, drifted
into this sea of difficulty. She gasped for breath; she felt like one
drowning; and the doughty captain murmured cajolingly:
"Although Dorian has acted very impetuously, and you have a perfect
right to be angry, still I know the poor boy would be dreadfully broken
up if you refused his prayer. And Irwin, too--poor fellow!--he did not
know how dreadfully uncertain the affair was, and would be so very much
disappointed."
"This is cruel, cruel!" Nita murmured. "I told Dorian
my--my--guardian----"
"Yes, I know, Miss Farnham; but the impulsive boy thought it would be
great fun to outwit your crusty old guardian. You weren't fond of him,
anyway, were you?"--anxiously.
She began to murmur something about duty and obedience, but he broke in,
almost curtly:
"You owe him neither now, my dear young lady. Oh, how can I tell you?
Only, I don't suppose you ever cared much for the--ahem!--disreputable
old party--miser, and all that--but the truth is, there was an accident
on the elevated road to-day, and Charles Farnham was badly injured and
taken to the hospital. Just before we left New York we got news of his
death."