A MEAN RETALIATION
Revenge is now my joy. She’s not for me,
And I’ll make sure, she ne’er shall be for thee.
—DRYDEN.
The intruder was Col. Angus Anglesea, who caught Odalite to his breast,
and with his arm firmly clasping her waist, stood, haughty, insolent and
defiant, in the midst of the thunderstruck group.
A scene of indescribable confusion followed. The bride fainted, the
bridesmaids shrieked, the old minister dropped his book, and fell back
in the nearest chair, in a state bordering on apoplexy.
The men, panic-stricken by amazement for a moment, now pressed forward.
Anglesea glared at them.
“This woman is my wife!” he said.
Le instantly recovered himself, and dashed madly forward.
Heaven only knows what he might have done, but he was intercepted, and
held as in a vise by Mr. Force, who sternly said:
“Le, there must be no violence here. This madman must be dealt with by
law, not by violence.”
“‘This madman!’” shouted the infuriated youth, struggling desperately to
free himself. “‘This madman,’ is it? This scoundrel, steeped to the lips
in vice and crime! This——”
“Le, be quiet! Would you murder, or be murdered?” demanded Mr. Force,
holding the young maniac firmly. Then turning to the intruder, he said,
in a calm, commanding tone: “Col. Anglesea, leave the house.”
“When I have accomplished that for which I came here,” answered the
intruder, smiling superior.
Young Bayard made a dash at him.
“Roland!” exclaimed Mr. Force, in a peremptory tone that arrested the
steps of the young man. “Stop! I will have no struggle in my house. If
the man does not leave quietly, he shall be taken off by a policeman.”
But now all Abel Force’s attention and energy were required to control
the young lion whom he held.
“Let me get at him! The thief, who married a rich widow only to rob and
desert her! The bigamist, who, having a living wife, tried to deceive
and marry a wealthy, betrothed maiden, only to rob and ruin her! The
forger, who invented and published a false account of his own death that
he might entrap his victim into another marriage, and take a mean
revenge by coming here with pretended claims to stop it! Oh! but he
shall die for this!” roared the youth, foaming with rage and struggling
fiercely to free himself.
“Le! Le! be quiet, I say! You are stark, staring mad!” exclaimed Abel
Force, holding the young man fast, though it took all his strength to do
it.
He might as well have talked to a cyclone.
“This felon!” thundered the youth—“this felon, who has broken every law
of God and man! This felon, I say, who should have been in the State
prison twenty years ago, serving out a life term! And you see him with
my wife in his arms, and you will not let me go! Oh!”
Here Mrs. Force, commanding herself by a great effort, went up to where
Col. Anglesea stood holding Odalite to his bosom, and clasped her hands,
raised her eyes to him, and pleaded:
“Oh! for dear mercy’s sake, give me my poor child! Don’t you see that
she is fainting, dying?”
Somewhat to her surprise, Anglesea placed Odalite in her arms, saying,
lightly:
“So that you do not take her out of the room! You know that she is my
wife! And——”
“Edward Grandiere! Be kind enough to step and bring in a policeman—two
of them, if possible,” said Mr. Force, who had all he could do to hold
Leonidas.
“Uncle! uncle! I don’t want to hurt you, but, by my soul, if you don’t
let me go, I shall be compelled to hurt you!” exclaimed the maddened and
writhing youth.
But the strong, mature man held him in arms that were like iron cable
chains.
“I tell you I shall hurt you, uncle!”
“Very well, Le! Hurt me! But I shall hold you all the same.”
“Why won’t you let me kill him?” yelled Le.
“Because, though he deserves death, you would commit a crime.”
“Oh, Heaven! must I bear this?”
“Be patient, Le! Let the law deal with this man! Edward Grandiere, I
asked you to go for a policeman!”
“Yes, sir! I only stopped to ask Roland where I should find one,” said
the young countryman, apologetically, as he hurried away.
At this point Mrs. Force had led Odalite to an easy-chair, where she
recovered from her fainting fit only to fall into a paroxysm of
hysterical sobs and tears. Her heartbroken mother sat by her side. Her
bridesmaids stood all around her, too much frightened to offer the least
comfort or assistance.
Col. Anglesea approached this group.
Odalite, who was sobbing convulsively, shuddered, and covered her eyes
with her hands.
The bridesmaids, who all knew him, for he had dined often at the tables
of their parents, regarded him in fear and horror, and cast down their
eyes to avoid looking at him.
But Angus Anglesea ignored them all, passed them, and, addressing Mrs.
Force, said, almost apologetically:
“I did not wish or intend to make a scene. But it was more than even my
self-possession could endure to see my wife in the arms of another man,
who was about to kiss her. I only want my just and lawful rights. You,
madam, know that your eldest daughter is my lawful wife. Knowing this, I
would ask you why you permitted your daughter to commit a felony that
exposes her to the penalty of the laws for such cases made and
provided?”
“We thought that Odalite was free to marry. We thought that you were
dead,” said Elfrida Force, who had suddenly grown superstitiously afraid
of this man, who seemed to be a Satan in strength, subtlety and
unscrupulous wickedness.
“You thought I was dead! Upon what ground? I am in the prime of life,
and in the height of health.”
“We saw the notice of your death in a paper sent to us.”
“Really? Well, that is rather startling. I should like to see that
paper.”
At this moment Dr. Priestly came up, and said:
“This is all very terrible. I—I do not understand it in the least.”
“It is easily explained, sir. A false report of my death reached my wife
there. She, believing herself to be a widow, contracted marriage with
that young gentleman yonder, who seems to be executing a war dance in
the arms of my father-in-law!” replied Col. Anglesea.
“Oh, Dr. Priestly! will you be so kind as to go and assist Mr. Force in
bringing Leonidas to reason?” pleaded the lady.
“Ye-yes! Of course! Oh, this is terrible, terrible! In the whole course
of my ministry I never met anything so terrible. But, sir,” he said,
suddenly breaking off in his discourse and turning to Col. Anglesea,
“you said that this young lady believed herself to be a widow when she
contracted marriage with Mr. Force. But she was never known here as wife
or widow. I have known her for more than three years as Miss Force.”
“That certainly requires explanation, as our marriage was not a secret
one, but was solemnized in the face of day and before a large
congregation——”
“And then knocked as high as the sky by the dropping down upon you of
your Californian wife! Oh, you hoofed and horned devil!” said Wynnette,
suddenly joining the group and unable longer to restrain herself.
The Rev. Dr. Priestly stared.
“Oh! what am I saying? I mean, reverend sir”—Wynnette began,
apologetically—“I mean that this gentleman’s attempted marriage with my
elder sister was arrested at the very altar by the appearance of a lady
from St. Sebastian, who claimed to be, and proved herself to be, his
lawful wife.”
The old minister looked perplexed and helplessly from the earnest girl
to the scornful man.
“After that my sister went from the church to my father’s house, and
lived under our parents’ protection. Of course, she was still Miss
Force. The unfinished ceremony could not have changed her name or
condition, even if the Californian had been an impostor, which she was
not. This cowardly dead beat and mean skala——Oh! I beg pardon, I am
sure, Dr. Priestly. I should have said: Col. Anglesea, here present,
knows that she was not an impostor, and he knows that he has no claim on
Odalite. He only comes here to make a scene. His marriage was broken off
at the altar by the appearance of his wife, and he is determined that
Odalite’s shall be broken off, for the day at least, by the appearance
of himself, with the claim that he is her husband. It is ‘tit for tat,’
you know. ‘What’s good for the gander is good for the goose,’ you see.
Oh, dear! Excuse me! I mean it is his revenge, reprisal, commending back
of the poisoned chalice, don’t you know?”
“Madam, is this true?” inquired the bewildered minister.
Mrs. Force did not reply. She dared not. She was so utterly subdued by
the appearance of her archenemy, under such inexplicable circumstances,
she could only ignore his question and repeat her request:
“Oh! Dr. Priestly, you are a man of peace. Pray go and help my husband
to bring our young relative to reason.”
The old minister unwillingly trotted off and arrived on the scene of
action in good time, for Mr. Force’s strength was beginning to give way
under the struggles of his prisoner to escape without hurting his
captor.
“You see that man standing among the ladies, whom his presence insults
and contaminates, and you will not let me get at him!” cried Le.
“My dear boy, I will not have a fight in my parlor, and in the presence
of women and children, do you understand? Wait for the police. We will
have him peaceably arrested and taken off. Then our interruption will be
over. The marriage ceremony was concluded, you know. As soon as we get
rid of this madman—for of course he is a madman—you can get ready and
take the train for Baltimore, just as if nothing unpleasant had
happened.”
Mr. Force spoke in a clear and ringing voice, and was heard by Col.
Anglesea, who laughed out aloud and derisively.
At that moment Roland Bayard and Grandiere came in, convoying two
policemen.
So rapidly had the events occurred which take so long to report, that
ten minutes had not elapsed since the first appearance of Col. Anglesea
on the scene, nor three since the departure of the young men in search
of the policemen.
“Ah! here you are!” exclaimed Abel Force, in a tone of relief.
“Yes, sir!” said Roland Bayard. “We were so fortunate as to meet the two
officers at the corner of the street!”
“And strangely enough, they were on their way to the house,” added Ned
Grandiere.
“Some of the servants must have had the discretion to go for them. Well,
officers, I am glad that you are here, and I hope you will be able to do
your unpleasant duty quietly,” said Mr. Force. And pointing directly to
the intruder, he added: “I give that man, there, Angus Anglesea, in
charge for a violent breach of the peace. Take him away at once.”
The policemen stared at the speaker, and then at Col. Anglesea, in a
very unofficial sort of way, and finally walked up to the colonel, and
one of them said:
“I don’t understand it, sir! What does it mean?”
“He’s drunk, I guess! But that need not hinder your duty. Go and serve
the papers on him at once.”
The policeman came back to Mr. Force and offered him a folded document.
“What is this? What nonsense is this?” inquired Mr. Force, without
taking the paper, because both his hands were still engaged in holding
Le.
“Take it and read it, sir, if you please,” said the officer who had
served it. “It is addressed to yourself.”
“Roland,” said Mr. Force, addressing young Bayard, “I don’t want to get
you into a fight with your brother-in-arms, by asking you to hold Le;
but will you please open that paper and hold it up before my eyes that I
may read it?”
Roland bowed in silence, took the paper, opened it and stared at it for
a moment, before he held it up to his host to be read.