"_Hist--hist_, Pedro!" and a tall, swarthy Creole, obeying the finger
of Perozzi, glided stealthily behind a large tree, where stood the
Spaniard, both screened from observation by the thick drapery of
ferns and parasitic plants clinging around its trunk. Eyeing the man
keenly, Perozzi said, in a low tone,
"Hark-ye, Pedro! I have a job for you; here are thirty pistoles as an
earnest, and when it is finished, you shall receive thirty more."
"By St. Jago, signor! I am ready--what is it? _This?_" touching the
handle of his knife.
"_Corambre_, knave! No. Listen to me. Do you see yonder mansion, with
the green verandas stretching itself out on the hill-side like an
anaconda at play?"
"The Scotchman's--Donaldson's?"
"The same. Now look, and tell me what you see at the open jalousie on
the right, that is, if you can see through the heavy screen of
jessamines which droop over it."
"Ho, ho! I have eyes at any time for a pretty girl, signor; she is an
angel, that fair English girl!"
"Very well--you know her, then. Now do you remember the thick pimento
walk between this and the hospital?"
"Si, signor."
"Now, Pedro, hasten thither, and conceal yourself. This fair Signora
will soon pass that way. Now mind me, knave, when she reaches the
middle of the grove, do you rush suddenly upon her--seize her in your
arms, and--"
"Ho-ho! a pleasant job, signor!"
"Peace, knave! Seize her, I tell you, and draw your knife, as if about
to plunge it in her white bosom. Now, mark me, at that moment I rush
upon you and rescue the lady--do you understand?"
"Si, signor; but will your honor please to remember I am but flesh and
blood--don't strike more than skin deep, signor."
"Tush, knave! and remember--no violence; by the Holy Mother! if you so
much as breathe upon a hair of her head, you taste my dagger!"
"Ho-ho, signor! methinks to snatch a kiss from her sweet lips would be
worth more than a thousand pistoles."
"Villain, to your work!"
"Ho-ho! a pleasant job, signor--a pleasant job!" And with a hideous
leer, the lesser villain parted from the greater, and concealing
himself within the deep shadows of the grove, awaited the coming of
Mildred.
It was not long ere, little suspecting the terrible scene which she
was to encounter, Mildred set forth _en route_ to the hospital, to
visit an old faithful female slave. This was a favorite walk, and
soothed by the quiet of the scene, she lingered long in its delightful
depths. As her foot pressed the summit of a gentle slope, enameled
with many-colored flowers, and over which frown the blood-tinged
foliage of a stately mahogany-tree, pendent garlands of the
passion-flower, and delicate white jasmine swung in the soft breeze,
she paused for a moment, as if to prolong this happy reprieve from the
presence of the Spaniard.
Suddenly, the wretch, Pedro, sprung in her path, and while with one
hand he seized the trembling girl, with the other he drew his
stiletto, and muttering a horrible oath, raised it as if about to
strike at her innocent bosom. Mildred did not scream, she did not
faint, but he eyes closed, and all power of speech and motion seemed
paralized. But the threatened blow was arrested; a violent struggle
ensued, during which she was clasped still more tightly to the breast
of the ruffian, who seemed to be defending himself from some superior
arm. Oaths and curses mingled with the clash of weapons; she was
dragged, as it were, several paces through the grove, and then, after
another struggle, she felt the arm of the assassin relax its
grasp--she was caught to the breast of her deliverer, and then placed
gently on the soft turf.
"Mildred--my angel--my life--O, speak to me!"
_That voice!_ Mildred knew its hateful tones; and a cold shudder crept
through her frame, as if some venomous reptile had touched her, as she
felt the villains lips press her brow. Recoiling, she slowly opened
her eyes.
"Thank God!" exclaimed Perozzi, "you are restored to me. Holy Virgin!
can it be--so near death, and yet living and unhurt, I now hold you in
my arms! O, blessed moment, when love guided me hither!"
"I owe you my life, signor," said Mildred, freeing herself from his
embrace, "but it is a thankless boon; methinks death would have been
sweeter! Leave me--I am better--I am well--leave me, signor!"
"Sweet angel! leave thee--leave thee thus exposed to new dangers!
No--lean on me, my beloved--let me guide your trembling steps!" and he
passed his arm around her.
"Away!" cried Mildred, springing from him. "Away! touch me not!
Monster--fiend! I hate you! Begone from my sight forever, or, in
mercy, kill me!"
Perozzi became livid with rage, and his eye-balls gleamed like fire in
the deepening shadows, as they rested on Mildred, never more beautiful
than as she now stood before him in all the majesty of outraged
purity. But masking the hell in his heart with a well-feigned air of
desperation, he fell on his knees before her.
"Would that the assassin's knife had reached my heart!" he exclaimed.
"Better for me to die than endure your scorn. Yes, _die_! By heavens!
why not end this miserable existence--here--yes, here, at your feet,
cruel Mildred! _It shall be done!_" and drawing a pistol from his
breast, he placed the muzzle to his temple.
"Hold--hold--for God's sake, miserable man, hold!" shrieked Mildred,
springing forward.
It was too late--the pistol exploded.
"Ha--ha--ha!" shouted Perozzi, wiping his blackened brows, "that was
well done!" And raising the now senseless girl in his arms he bore her
to the house.
When, after a long and death-like swoon, Mildred opened her eyes they
rested upon the anxious countenances of her mother and Mr. Donaldson
bending over her couch.
"Where am I?" she cried, starting up wildly--"how came I here--what
has happened? Ah, now I remember--or was it some dreadful dream?" She
pressed her hand to her forehead--"no, no, it was no dream--tell me,"
she added, with a convulsive shudder, closing her eyes as if to shut
out some horrible vision, "is he dead--is Perozzi dead?"
"Compose yourself, my dear Mildred," replied Mrs. Donaldson, "he
lives--fortunately the ball but slightly grazed his temple--yet, my
child, such is his despair--to such a state of frenzy has your cruelty
brought him, that we dare not trust him alone even for a moment, lest
he once more attempt to end his misery by self-destruction."
A heart-rending groan was the poor girl's only answer.
"Mildred, my daughter," said Mr. Donaldson, "I had decided to say no
more to you upon a subject so painful, but duty to my friend compels
me to make one more appeal to your compassion. Can I stand calmly by
and witness the wreck which despair has wrought in that beloved
friend--can I behold him resolutely rushing upon death to end his
misery and not speak! O, Mildred," falling on his knees, "save
him--for you can--Mildred, behold me thus imploring your pity for
Perozzi!"
Mildred burst into tears, and placed her hand within that of Mr.
Donaldson.
"You will relent, my sweet child, will you not?" said her mother,
throwing her arms around her--"yes, you will, and make us all
happy--see," she added, drawing a letter from her bosom, "here is a
letter from my beloved father--let his words plead with ours--shall I
read?" Mildred assented, and breaking the seal Mrs. Donaldson
continued:
"MILDRED,--You have refused compliance with the fondest
wish of my heart--you have obstinately cast from you
the man of all others I wished to see your husband!
Henceforth I renounce you. I loved you, my child, (as I
now for the last time call you,) I have loved you from
your infancy--to you I looked as my greatest earthly
blessing--but it is all over--we never meet again! Yet,
cruel, ungrateful girl, I will not doom you to a life
of hardship and dependence. The fortune settled upon
you is still yours. Take it, Mildred, and enjoy it if
you can, knowing that you have broken the heart of your
old doting grandfather,
Archibald Dundass."
As Mrs. Donaldson concluded, Mildred sobbed aloud. These reproaches,
mingled with so much kindness, almost broke her heart.
"Give me the letter," said she, extending her trembling hand, and once
more she tearfully perused it, while a glance of triumph was exchanged
between husband and wife. The look of agony which Mildred cast upon
them as she finished reading would have melted a heart of stone. Mrs.
Donaldson burst into tears, and even the lip of her husband quivered
with agitation.
"My God, pity me!" cried Mildred, clasping her hands and raising her
eyes to heaven. Once more she turned them on her mother. "Mother, do
not weep--_I--O God--I--consent_!" And as if with those dreadful
words her pure spirit had fled, she fell back cold and rigid as marble
upon the pillow.