THE WEAK ONE.
Emmie remained for a few brief seconds as if transfixed into stone. More
wretched was she even than her father, who had rushed off to London on
hearing of the arrest of his younger son, without knowing that any
danger or disgrace threatened the elder. It need not be said that Emmie
never for one instant doubted the innocence of either; her present
intense agony arose from her fear regarding the fate of Bruce.
"In that fatal room which he has occupied through my own selfish folly,"
so flowed the stream of thought like burning lava through the poor
girl's brain, "Bruce has heard--has discovered the forgers. He would
take no cowardly oath, and they have murdered him to ensure his silence.
What a fearful fate may have overtaken mine own brave brother! But, oh!
may merciful Heaven have shielded his precious life!"
Susan entered the room, alarmed by the account of the state of her
mistress given by Hannah. She expected to find Miss Trevor either
fainting or in hysterics, but to her surprise the lady was perfectly
calm. This was no time to give way to weakness; the very extremity of
Emmie's anguish subdued its outward expression.
"Go to the policemen, Susan; tell them that I am certain that my brother
Bruce has been the victim of some foul deed," she said with distinct
articulation though a quivering, bloodless lip. "Let every corner of
this house, from attic to cellar, be searched; a thousand pounds' reward
to whoever shall find Bruce Trevor!" Emmie waved her hand impatiently to
urge speed, and Susan hastened from the apartment, scarcely more certain
of young Trevor's innocence, or less anxious regarding his fate, than
was his unhappy sister.
"There are two guilty ones who are likely enough to be able to throw
light on this dark mystery," said Emmie to herself; "Harper, and that
wretched woman his wife. But can I set the police on their track without
breaking my oath, my horrible oath? Would Heaven, in this dreadful
emergency, condemn me for that, or suffer that those awful imprecations
which I was forced to utter should fall on my body and soul? Is there
any other course open before me in this maddening misery of doubt?"
Emmie made two hurried steps towards the door, and then paused.
"There is one other course; yes, I see it. I could go myself--alone--to
the dwelling of Jael; there is something of the woman left in her still,
she protected my life from her husband. Bruce may be living still, but
kept in confinement,"--a gleam of hope came with that thought,--"not in
Harper's hovel, which is too small and too close to others to be used as
a hiding-place or a prison, but possibly in Jael's, which stands by
itself. I will go thither. Threats, promises, entreaties, all will I use
to win from her at least some tidings of my lost brother! If I go alone
I break no oath, and Jael will be able henceforth implicitly to trust in
my honour. She may confide to me things which she would effectually
conceal from officers of justice. Yes, I will go alone. Oh, God of
mercy, help and direct me!"
One measure of precaution suggested itself to the mind of Emmie, who
could not dissociate the idea of personal danger from intercourse with
any of those concerned in the forgery plot. She tore a leaf from her
pocket-book, and wrote upon it the few following lines, to be left on
the dining-room table. "_If there be tidings of my brother, or if I be
long in returning, seek for me at the house of Mrs. Jessel._" "There is
no breach of my oath in writing this," thought Emmie, as she added her
initials to the lines which she had hastily penned.
Emmie's garden-hat and scarlet shawl were hung up in the hall; she
sought no other equipment for her walk through the wood, though the
clouds were hanging like a pall over the white earth, and the wind was
now furiously high. Emmie did not pursue the path by the drive that
would have led to the hamlet and the highway; there was a short cut
through the woods to the dwelling of Jael, and the maiden took it,
sheltering herself as best she might against the tempest which raged
round her fragile form. The poor girl felt that she was on a dangerous
enterprise. She knew not whom or what she might meet in the place to
which she was going; she had not forgotten the gleam of Harper's sharp
blade, or the fierce threat expressed in his eyes. It may be marvelled
at that one so timid as was Emmie should venture without protection to a
dwelling in which might be lurking those whom she knew to be
criminals,--those who, as she fearfully suspected, might be murderers
also. It was indeed sisterly affection that impelled Emmie onwards, but
her support, her strength, was in prayer. Emmie was trusting now as she
never had trusted before; she was leaning on, clinging to the invisible
arm that could hold her up, to the love which would never forsake her.
It is not to be supposed that Vibert's miserable position was forgotten
by Emmie in her terrors on account of his brother. But for Vibert the
sister could do nothing but pray; his father was hastening to his aid:
her whole energies, Emmie felt, must be concentrated on her own special
work,--that of discovering the fate of Bruce Trevor.
Emmie had gone more than half-way to the dwelling of Jael, when the
thunder-cloud above her burst in a storm compared to which that one
which she had encountered on the evening of her arrival was but as the
play of summer lightning. Never before had the trembling girl heard such
deafening peals as those which now shook the welkin, while the rattling
hail descended with fury. Branches above and on either side creaked and
snapped in the gale, and some were whirled with violence across the path
of the maiden. Emmie started, shuddered, and drew her shawl over her
head for protection against the blast and the hail, but still she
struggled onwards. She uttered no shriek, but she gasped forth a prayer;
it was the moan of one in anguish, not the cry of one in despair.
That storm was one of the most terrible which had ever been known in
England. The newspapers on the following day recorded many a wreck on
the coast, many an accident in inland localities. They told of stacks of
chimneys blown down, and a church spire struck by lightning; they
recorded how cattle had been killed by the fall of a tree, and a
sportsman in the field struck dead with his gun in his hand. Emmie
always remembered that storm as a horrible dream, and wondered how she
had been strengthened to endure what terrified nature so shrank from.
But personal fear was partly neutralized by a yet more absorbing fear;
to gain tidings of Bruce, Emmie felt that she would bear the shock of
the fiercest storm that ever swept over the earth.
The maiden emerged unharmed from the wood, safe at least from danger of
injury by lightning-struck tree, or branches torn off by the gale. She
had been preserved through one terrible peril; and would not the Power
that had helped her hitherto sustain and protect to the end?
Emmie had now reached a road which skirted an open heath, and the lone
dwelling of Jael Harper stood not a hundred yards before her. It was a
narrow, two-storied house, standing in a small garden; both house and
garden were whitened with snow, as was the little path which connected
the door with the road. The hail had spent itself in that sharp and
furious downfall, but the blinding lightning flashed faster than ever
its forked, jagged darts through the sky.
As Emmie with desperate resolution approached the garden-gate of that
dwelling which was as fearful to her as a lion's den might have been,
she noticed on the snow-covered road the tracks of cartwheels, and on
the garden pathway those of feet. The latter were all in a direction
which showed that though several persons might have quitted the house
since the fall of snow on the preceding night, no one could have entered
it. Emmie leaned for a few moments against the low garden-paling to
gather her thoughts; the noise of the storm and the terror of her mind
made it difficult even to think.
"Footprints from the door to the road, some larger, some smaller as if
made by a woman, and some left by wide nailed boots, all pointing this
way," murmured Emmie; "three persons must have left the house this
morning, and I stand on the track of wheels. All then have
absconded,--they have fled from justice; that den of wickedness must be
empty." Emmie looked across the garden at the door with its iron studs
and large old-fashioned knocker, and felt assured that the loudest
summons on that knocker would not cause that door to open. The shutters
of the windows were all closed, the house was evidently shut up and
deserted. The young lady could not get in; wherefore, then, should she
stay? Would it not be better to return home at once, and hear if the
strict search after Bruce which must have followed her offer of large
reward had been of any avail?
"Oh! why did I madly come hither?" exclaimed Emmie, personal fear again
rising into terror, as she contemplated returning through the wood
whilst the dreadful storm still raged. "That lightning! oh, how awful
the flash! The heavens seem to be splitting asunder! But do not the
lightnings obey God's bidding? Is it not the voice of my Father which I
hear in the thunder? Even if it bring His summons to His child, should I
fear to go unto Him?"
While her faith was wrestling thus with her fear, the attention of Emmie
was attracted by a small object near her, almost covered with snow,
which, strangely enough on that winter day, looked something like a
rosebud. Its soft crimson hue contrasted with the whiteness of the snow
under which it was lying half buried. There was something curiously
familiar to Emmie in the appearance of that flower, which did not seem
like a work of nature. The small thing, whatever it might be, was but
two steps from the spot where Emmie stood leaning against the paling.
Emmie turned towards the place where lay the object, and, though she
could scarcely have given a reason for so doing, she stooped and raised
it. With emotions which no pen can describe, the trembling girl drew out
from the snow _a man's slipper_--a slipper which her own fingers had
worked for her brother! Emmie sank on her knees with a faint cry of
anguish. How had that slipper come there, and when? and, oh! where,
where was he who had worn it? Did that deserted house conceal some
fearful--
The chain of thought was broken by an explosive crash of heaven's
artillery in the cloud above, and, almost simultaneously with the peal,
a fire-ball struck the house, by the garden-gate of which Emmie was
crouching, still on her knees. The noise was so tremendous that the
maiden for a brief space lost sense of hearing and power of thinking;
she was deafened and bewildered, and remained motionless and breathless,
with the slipper clenched in her grasp. But the thunder-clap was soon
over, and miserable consciousness of her position returned to poor
Emmie. The sight of that slipper roused her to a more sickening fear
than could be caused by lightning or thunder.
Emmie started to her feet, and again turned her wild gaze on the lonely
house. It had been fast closed against her entrance, but (attracted,
perhaps, by the metal on the door) Heaven's bolt had torn its way
through; it had smashed through woodwork and brickwork, and made a
ghastly breach, charred and blackened, as if a bomb had exploded there
to make an opening for destroyers! There was nothing now but her own
terror to hinder the maiden from exploring the lightning-stricken
dwelling.
"O Father--mercy--help!" burst in almost unconscious prayer from Emmie's
quivering lips, as she lifted the latch of the gate. With rapid steps
she crossed the little garden by the snow-covered path, and over the
charred and splintered wreck of a door made her way into the house which
she had so much dreaded to enter. To Emmie it seemed as if she were
borne onwards by some invisible power, and were scarcely a voluntary
agent; but this sensation was the effect of excited fancy.
Emmie was now in the narrow passage of Jael's house; to her right was an
open door, beyond which lay a room, dark indeed, for the shutters of its
window were closed, yet not utterly so, for daylight forced its way in
through chinks, and there was a faint reflected light from the wall of
the passage. Into that room Emmie now turned, groping her way forwards
with hands extended. Her object was to reach the window and throw open
the shutters, and so gain fuller light by which to pursue her dreadful
search for--perhaps a brother's corpse! But ere Emmie could feel her way
to the window, her bare and icy-cold hand came in contact with something
soft and damp--something resembling a human face! Emmie could not stifle
a cry of horror. Her first emotion was that of terror, the next that of
almost ecstatic hope, as the maiden's straining eyes traced through the
deep gloom the outline of a form, not standing upright, but apparently
leaning against or fastened to some heavy piece of furniture. This form,
of which she had accidentally touched the face, was assuredly not dead,
for the flesh had some slight warmth, and the head had slightly moved
when her hand came in contact with it. Emmie sprang to the window,
raised the bar, and flung the shutters wide open. What a sight did
daylight reveal! On his knees, with his back to a table to which he was
bound, while his mouth was gagged with his own neckcloth, Emmie, as she
turned from the window, beheld her brother--her own lost Bruce!
Almost in the twinkling of an eye the prisoner's mouth was freed from
its bonds. The exclamations "My sister! my preserver!" which burst from
the young man's lips, showed that neither the sense of recognition nor
power of utterance was lost. Emmie then attempted to free the arms of
Bruce, which were bound with a rope behind him; but to accomplish this
work required more time and far greater effort. The knot was not easily
unloosed, and the slender delicate fingers of Emmie, though she exerted
their utmost strength, could not for several minutes accomplish their
difficult task. Whilst Emmie was straining at the tight knot, quickened
in her efforts by a faint moan from her suffering brother, she noticed
not whether lightning flashed or thunder rolled; she seemed for the time
to have lost all personal fear; self-consciousness was swallowed up in
anxious care for another.
At length the rope end was dragged through the last cruel loop, and
Bruce Trevor was free. Emmie, with thankful delight, threw her arms
round the neck of her brother, and, for the first time on that terrible
day, burst into a flood of tears. Her brother feebly returned her
embrace, and wept like a child. Emmie was surprised, and even alarmed,
at the emotion to which Bruce Trevor gave way. Had it been Vibert who
had wept--Vibert, ever impulsive, and without any self-control--Emmie
would neither have wondered nor feared; but that Bruce, the firm Bruce,
who since childhood had never been known to shed a tear--that Bruce
should actually sob, showed that even his powers of endurance must have
been overstrained at last, and that his strong nerves had been shaken
by torture, either physical or mental.
And suffering was written on the young man's face; not only in the
ghastly wound which Harper's blow had left on his brow, but in the
hollow eyes, the haggard cheek, the lips which had lost for a while
their expression of calm decision. Bruce had secretly prided himself on
his firmness; he had to be taught that no merely human courage can be
proof against every trial, as his sister had been taught that human
weakness can be raised into heroism by the power of faith and prayer.
But soon the strong will struggled against human infirmity. Mastering
his emotion by a convulsive effort, Bruce was the first to speak.
"How came you here? who is with you?" he asked.
"No one is with me; I think that God led me here," was Emmie's reply.
"He led you indeed," murmured Bruce. "The cords were cutting into my
flesh, my position was torture; another half-hour and reason or life
must have given way. But for you to come alone, in the storm, and to
such a place as this, is scarcely less than a miracle--you, Emmie, who
dreaded the lightning!"
"Blessed was the lightning! it did His bidding; it made a way for me to
enter and save you," cried Emmie.
"But for that crashing bolt you would never have seen me alive," said
Bruce. As he spoke, the young man turned his head with a quick, uneasy
movement, like a sentinel at night who detects the sound of a stealthy
tread. Emmie saw the movement, and her heart throbbed fast with
sympathetic alarm. Could the forgers be returning to make sure of their
victim? But the apprehension expressed in the face of Bruce arose from a
different cause.
"Mark you not that smell of burning?" he said. "See the smoke rolling in
through the doorway; the bolt has set the house on fire; we must make
our escape before the building be wrapped in flames!"
Bruce was in so exhausted a state, and his limbs had been so cramped by
the painful position in which he had for hours remained, that without
the support of his sister's slight arm he could scarcely have moved even
a few steps forward. Very strange was it to Emmie to find that her
brother leaned upon her--that it was given to the weak to support the
strong, to the timid to encourage the brave. The relative positions of
brother and sister were reversed at that crisis of danger; the pride of
man was brought low, whilst strength was given to the humble and meek.
Smoke, blinding and half-suffocating smoke, filled the passage through
which Emmie now guided her brother's faltering steps. Sparks flew
around, the heat was intense, the roaring sound of flames mingled with
the noise of the storm. But there was no actual obstacle to the
departure of the fugitives from the burning house, and over the wreck of
the shattered door they passed forth into outer air. Here they felt
comparatively safe; the snowy waste which spread around them promised
protection at least from any danger from fire. The storm was gradually
abating, and soon the roaring and crackling noise of the conflagration
and the crash of falling timbers were more audible than the muttering of
thunder rolling away to the west.
With awe that hushed them into silence, the Trevors watched for a while
the progress of the fire. Flames burst forth from windows, and blazed up
from roof, till the whole building seemed swathed in a fiery mantle,
from which the wind scattered myriads of sparks. Fast as rose a column
of black smoke from the conflagration, it was spread by the gale in a
western direction, like a dark pall overshadowing the snow which lay on
the heath. The Trevors had sought the shelter of a hedge, on the side
opposite to that to which flames and smoke were driven; and thus not a
spark fell beside them, though they were near enough to the burning
dwelling to feel its glowing heat.
"But for you I should now have been _there_!" exclaimed Bruce, after an
interval of silence, as he pointed towards the house, which every minute
was becoming more like a burning fiery furnace. "I could not have
stirred hand or foot; I should have remained bound, like victim at the
stake, waiting till the flames should reach me. You have saved me from
the most horrible of deaths; I owe my life to your courage."
"Not mine! oh, not mine! it was His gift!" exclaimed Emmie, with a gush
of unutterable thankfulness and joy. "Oh! shall I ever again mistrust
the power and the goodness of God!"