REJECTED.
It is difficult to describe the thoughts at that moment passing through
my mind, about Mr. Nat Bradley and his mysterious movements. I can
well remember them as being black and bitter. More than ever was I
enraged at the man, who, failing to become my assassin, appeared to be
successful as my rival. I could no longer conceal from myself the deep
interest I felt in Cornelia Woodley.
The disappearance of Bradley was easily explained. I did not need
to hear that he had gone back to the house. It was but the echo of
my own instinct, the moment he was missed from the sporting party.
Miss Woodley would be alone. It was no wonder he should seek such an
opportunity. No wonder either, that pigeon-shooting should no longer
seem sport to me, and that I should determine on retiring from it.
Without communicating my intention to any one, I strayed from the
ridge, and toward the plantation-house.
I went with irresolution, now hesitating whether I should interrupt a
scene, the very thought of which maddened me, and where I would, no
doubt, be deemed a most unwelcome intruder.
But the madness itself stimulated me to proceed; and, on I went, like
one who despairingly offers himself upon the altar of destruction.
Close to the house of Henry Woodley there was a clump of low timber,
that might have been likened to an orchard. It was not this, however,
only the grove of indigenous trees already mentioned, that, being of an
ornamental kind, had been left standing for show and shade. A fence had
been thrown around them, and some slight attempts made to give them the
character of a cultivated shrubbery. Walks had been traced out, and a
rustic seat or two placed at intervals among these natural arbors.
The path leading from the beachwood ridge ran through the inclosure,
and upon this I was returning. There was a set of "bars" separating it
from the woods behind; most of these were down, as we had left them on
going out. I had stepped silently over, and was proceeding on toward
the house, when voices, heard in conversation, caused me to come to a
stop. There were two of them, both easily recognized. The first I heard
was that of Nat Bradley, loud enough for me to make out the words, as
also to tell to whom they were addressed.
I was too much interested in what was being said to feel either shame
or reluctance at playing eavesdropper.
"You've made up your mind to that?"
I was not in time to catch the beginning of the speech, which appeared
to be in the form of an interrogation.
The answer proved it to have been one.
"I have," was the reply, in a female voice--like that of Miss Woodley.
"I suppose you think I'm not rich enough; you intend to marry some
grand fellow with a fortune, who can show you off? That's why you
refuse _me_."
"Permit me to tell you, Mr. Nat Bradley, it has nothing to do with my
refusing you."
"Come, Corneel; speak the truth; if it be only that, I can promise you
that I too--"
"You need not make promises, I have spoken the truth, and once for all,
I tell you that it is no use your asking me again. I have said it once
before, I now say it again; Nat Bradley, I _can never be your wife_."
There was an emphasis on the words that particularly pleased me.
A pause followed, and with a heart strangely palpitating I listened for
the rejoinder.
It came in an accent half-agonized, half-angry.
"You won't, Corneel? you won't! Be it so. Then by heaven! you'll never
be the wife of another man--or if you are, it will only be to become
his widow. I swear by the Eternal, that if it cost me my life, I'll
kill the man that marries you. Yes, the very day he makes you his
bride. So now you may choose for yourself: either be my wife or some
fool's widow. If I thought it was this fledgeless puppy that's staying
with you, I wouldn't let it go that far. No, by--! I'd put an end to
him before that sun should set. I'd--"
"Nat Bradley!" broke in the voice of the indignant girl. "Do you think
I will listen to such a speech as you are addressing to me? You forget
yourself, sir; or you forget me. Let me hear no more of it, or my
brother shall be told of the liberty you are pleased to take in his
absence."
To this speech I could hear no rejoinder, but instead, a rustling of
female dress, and the sound of light footsteps passing away. I could
tell that Miss Woodley had put an end to the interview by retiring
toward the house.
For myself I felt contented enough to have gone back to the woods, and
enjoyed pigeon-shooting for the rest of the day. But the word "puppy"
rung in my ears, and alongside them was my cheeks, still tingling with
that queer sensation I had experienced from the passage of the bullet.
I could not restrain myself from stepping round the tree that had
hitherto concealed the speakers from my sight, and confronting the only
one that remained upon the ground, Mr. Nat Bradley.
Had I been my own ghost--which he supposed I was--he could not have
shown more surprise. I think now, as I thought then, that he was
under the belief that he had killed me--and this may account for his
consternation at seeing me. At all events the braggadocio to which
he had been giving vent, seemed suddenly scared out of him; and he
received me in a manner almost submissive.
"Mr. Bradley," I said, "will you have the goodness to let me look at
your gun?"
"My gun!" he replied with an air of assumed surprise. "Oh! certainly;
but why do you wish to see it?"
"Because I have a bullet here, that passed within less than an inch
of my skull. I'm curious to know who came so near shooting me--by
accident."
"My God! I hope it wasn't me."
"Well," I replied, after placing the bullet to the muzzle of his rifle,
and satisfying myself it had come from no other, "I can only say that
it was you who fired the shot, and let me caution you the next time you
go pigeon-shooting to stick to the feathered game, and not select a
'fledgeless puppy' for your mark. I hope you understand me?"
Without waiting for an answer, I turned upon the path, and once more
stepping over the bars, went back toward the beech-woods.
I rejoined the pigeon-shooting party with a zest for the sport I had
not hitherto felt.
No one was made the wiser of what had happened; nor did I care to
communicate to my host, how near he had been to having the expense of
providing a coffin for his stranger guest!
On our return to the house we found Miss Woodley alone.
Where was Mr. Bradley? inquired her brother.
He had been there, but had taken his horse, and was gone.
Henry thought this nothing strange. He was an odd sort of fellow was
Nat Bradley, and did queer things sometimes.
I was not surprised at his unexplained departure. After that interview
with the mistress of the mansion, he would not be likely soon to show
himself there again.
There was little said about it, and I could see that Miss Woodley had
no suspicion of my having overheard what had passed between her and her
rejected suitor.
For my part I intended to keep her secret. I was too contented at what
I had heard to spoil my pleasure by divulging it, and unless Bradley
himself should choose to demand explanations from me, I intended to
leave the matter as it stood. Of course I could not help speculating
upon what course he would take as regarded myself. Would he submit
tamely to the treatment I had given him? Noted bully as he was, I might
have expected a challenge, or what was more likely in that land of
pseudo-chivalry, an "affair," that is, a rough fight with guns, knives,
and pistols. Why it had not come off upon the spot, I could understand,
or at all events I had conjectured. His rifle was empty, its last load
having been discharged at my own person. He appeared to be unprovided
with pistols--these weapons, perhaps, not being deemed appropriate for
making a proposal of marriage. Unarmed, and taken by surprise by my
sudden appearance, he had permitted me to depart without an encounter.
I supposed, however, it would come off sooner or later, and I waited
for a communication.
But the next day passed, and there was none; and the next after, till a
whole week had transpired without any word from Mr. Nat Bradley.
I made up my mind I should hear no more of him, and concluded that in
this case the bully was also a coward.