THE CONVICT'S STORY
"It is not an easy task to confess how bad one has been," the stranger
said, "and once no power could have tempted me to do it; but several
years of prison life have taught me some wholesome lessons, and I am not
the same man I was when, Densie Densmore"--and his glance turned toward
her--"when I met you, and won your love. Against you first I sinned. You
are my oldest victim, and it's meet I should begin with you."
"Yes, with me--me first, and tell me quick of my stolen baby," she
faintly moaned.
Her ferocity of manner all was gone, and the poor, white-haired creature
sat quietly where Alice had put her, while the story proceeded:
"You know, Densie, but these do not, how I won your love with promises
of marriage, and then deserted you just when you needed me most. I had
found new prey by that time--was on the eve of marriage with one who was
too good for me. I left you and married Mrs. Eliza Worthington. I--"
The story was interrupted at this point by a cry from 'Lina, who moaned:
"No, no, oh no! He is not my father; is he, Hugh? Tell me no. John, Dr.
Richards, pray look at me and say it's all a dream, a dreadful dream!
Oh, Hugh!" and to the brother, scorned so often, poor 'Lina turned for
sympathy, while the stranger continued:
"It would be useless for me to say now that I loved her, Eliza, but I
did, and when I heard soon after my marriage that I was a father, I
said: 'Densie will never rest now until she finds me, and she must not
come between me and Eliza," so I feigned an excuse and left my new wife
for a few weeks. Eliza, you remember I said I had business in New York,
and so I had. I went to Densie Densmore. I professed sorrow for the
past. I made her believe me, and then laid a most diabolical plan. Money
will do anything, and I had more than people supposed. I had a mother,
too, at that time, a woman old and infirm, and good, even if I was her
son. To her I went with a tale, half false, half true. There was a
little child, I said, a little girl, whose mother was not my wife. I
would have made her so, I said, but she died at the child's birth. Would
my mother take that baby for my sake? She did not refuse, so I named a
day when I would bring it. 'Twas that day, Densie, when I took you to
the museum, and on pretense of a little business I must transact at a
house in Park Row, I left you for an hour, but never went back again."
"No, never back again--never. I waited so long, waited till I almost
thought I heard my baby cry, and then went home; but baby was gone.
Alice, do you hear me?--baby was gone;" and the poor, mumbling creature,
rocking to and fro, buried her bony fingers in Alice's fair hair.
"Poor Densie! poor auntie!" was all Alice said, as she regarded with
horror the man, who went on:
"Yes, baby was gone--gone to my mother's, in a part of the city where
there was no probability of its being found and I was gone, too. You are
shocked, fair maiden, and well you may be," the convict said.
"In course of time there was a daughter born to me and to Eliza; a sweet
little, brown-haired, brown-eyed girl, whom we named Adaline."
Instinctively every one in that room glanced at the black eyes and hair
of 'Lina, marveling at the change.
"I loved this little girl, as it was natural I should, more than I loved
the other, whose mother was a servant. Besides that, she was not so
deeply branded as the other; see--" and pushing back the thick locks
from his forehead, he disclosed his birthmark, while 'Lina suddenly put
her hand where she knew there was another like it.
"At last there came a separation. Eliza would not live with me longer
and I went away, but pined so for my child that I contrived to steal
her, and carried her to my mother, where was the other one. 'Twas there
you tracked me, Densie. You came one day, enacting a fearful scene, and
frightening my children until they fled in terror and hid away from your
sight."
"I remember, I remember now. That's where I heard the name," 'Lina said,
while the convict continued:
"I said you were a mad woman. I made mother believe it; but she never
recovered from the shock, and six weeks after your visit, I was alone
with my two girls, Densie and Adaline. I could not attend to them both,
and so I sent one to Eliza and kept the other myself, hiring a
housekeeper, and to prevent being dogged by Densie again, I passed as
Mr. Monroe Gordon, guardian to the little child whom I loved so much."
"That was Adah," fell in the whisper from the doctor's lips, but caught
the ear of no one.
All were too intent upon the story, which proceeded:
"She grew, and grew in beauty, my fair, lovely child, and I was
wondrously proud of her, giving her every advantage in my power. I sent
her to the best of schools, and even looked forward to the day when she
should take the position she was so well fitted to fill. After she was
grown to girlhood we boarded, she as the ward, I as the guardian still,
and then one unlucky day I stumbled upon you, Dr. John, but not until
you had first stumbled upon my daughter, and been charmed with her
beauty, passing yourself as some one else--as George Hastings, I
believe--lest your fashionable associates should know how the
aristocratic Dr. Richards was in love with a poor, unknown orphan,
boarding up two flights of stairs."
"Who is he talking about, Hugh? Does he mean me? My head throbs so, I
don't quite understand," 'Lina said, piteously, while Hugh held the poor
aching head against his bosom, crushing the orange blossoms, and
whispering softly:
"He means Adah."
"Yes, Adah," the convict rejoined. "John Richards fancied Adah Gordon,
as she was called, but loved his pride and position more. I'll do you
justice, though, young man, I believe at one time you really and truly
loved my child, and but for your mother's letters might have married her
honorably. But you were afraid of that mother. Your pride was stronger
than your love; and as I was determined that you should have my
daughter, I proposed a mock marriage."
"Monster! You, her father, planned that fiendish act!" and Alice's blue
eyes flashed indignantly upon him, while Hugh, forgetting that the idea
was not new to him, walked up before the "monster," as if to lay him at
his feet.
"Listen, while I explain, and you will see the monster had an object,"
returned the stranger, speaking to Alice, instead of Hugh. "There were
several reasons why I wished Adah to marry Dr. Richards, and as one of
them concerns this scar upon my forehead, I will tell you here its
history. You, madam," addressing himself to Anna, "have probably heard
how your greatgrandfather died."
"It happened almost a century of years ago, when there was not the
difference of position between the proud Richards line and the humble
Murdocks that there is now. Your greatgrandfather and mine were friends,
boon companions, but one fatal night, when more wine than usual had been
drunk, there arose a fearful quarrel between the two, and with a knife
snatched from a sideboard standing near, Murdock gave his comrade a blow
which resulted in his death. Sobered at once, and nearly beside himself
with terror, he rushed frantically to the chamber of his sleeping wife,
and laying his blood-wet hands upon her brow, screamed for her to rise,
which she did immediately, nearly fainting, it is said, when by the
light of the lamp her husband bore, she saw the bloody print upon her
forehead. Three months afterward my grandfather was born, and over his
left temple was the hated mark which has clung to us ever since, and
which a noted clairvoyant predicted would never disappear until the
feudal parties came together, and a Murdock wedding with a Richards. The
offspring of such union would be without taint or blemish, he said, and
I am told, sir, your boy is fair as alabaster."
Dr. Richards, to whom this appeal was made, only stared blankly at him,
like one who hears in a dream, but 'Lina, catching at everything
pertaining to the doctor, said, quickly:
"His boy! Where is his boy? Oh, what does it all mean?"
"Poor girl!" and the convict spoke sorrowfully. "I did not think she
would take it so hard, but the worst is not yet told, and I must hasten.
I ingratiated myself at once into John Richards' good graces and when I
knew it would answer, I suggested a mock marriage. First, however, I
would know something definite of his family as they were then, and so,
as a Mr. Morris, who wished to purchase a country seat, I went to
Snowdon, and after some inquiries in the village, forced my way to
Terrace Hill. The lady listening to me was the only one I saw, and I
felt sure she at least would be kind to Adah. On my return to New York,
I urged the marriage more pertinaciously than at first, saying, by way
of excusing myself, that as I was only Adah's guardian, I could not, of
course, feel toward her as a near relative would feel--that as I had
already expended large sums of money on her, I was getting tired of it,
and would be glad to be released, hinting, by way of smoothing the
fiendish proposition, my belief that, from constant association, he
would come to love her so much that at last he would really and truly
make her his wife. He did hesitate--he did seem shocked, and if I
remember rightly, called me a brute, an unnatural guardian, and all
that; but little by little I gained ground, until at last he consented,
and I hurried the matter at once, lest he should repent.
"I had an acquaintance, I said, who lived a few miles from the city--a
man who, for money, would do anything, and who, as a feigned justice of
the peace, would go through with the ceremony, and ever after keep his
own counsel. I wonder the doctor did not make some inquiries concerning
this so-called justice, but I think I am right in saying that he is not
remarkably clear-headed, and this weakness saved me much trouble, and
after a long time I arranged the matter with my friend, who was a lawful
justice, staying with his brother, at that time absent in Europe. This
being done, I decided upon Hugh Worthington for a witness, as being the
person, of all the world, who should be present at Adah's bridal. He had
recently come to New York. I had accidentally made his acquaintance,
acquiring so strong an influence over him that I could almost mold him
to my will. I did not tell him what I wanted until I had tempted him
with drugged wine, and he did not realize what he was doing. He knew
enough, however, to sign his name and to salute the bride, who really
was a bride, as lawful a one as any who ever turned from the altar where
she had registered her vows."
"Oh, joy, joy!" and Alice sprang at once to her feet, and hastening to
the doctor's side, said to him, authoritatively:
"You hear, you understand, Adah is your wife, your very own, and you
must go back to her at once. She's in your own home as Rose Markham. She
went from here, Adah Hastings, whose husband's name was George. You do
understand me?" and Alice grew very earnest as the doctor failed to
rouse up, as she thought he ought to do.
Appealing next to Anna, she continued:
"Pray, make him comprehend that his wife is at Terrace Hill."
Very gently Anna answered:
"She was there, but she has gone. He knows it; I came to tell him, but
she fled immediately after recognizing my brother, and left a letter
revealing the whole."
It had come to 'Lina by this time that Dr. Richards could never be her
husband, and with a bitter cry, she covered her face with her hands, and
went shivering to the corner where Mrs. Worthington sat, as if a
mother's sympathy were needed now, and coveted as it had never been
before.
"Oh, mother," she sobbed, laying her head in Mrs. Worthington's lap, "I
wish I had never been born."
Sadly her wail of disappointment rang through the room, and then the
convict went on with his interrupted narrative.
"When the marriage was over, Mr. Hastings took his wife to another part
of the city, hiding her from his fashionable associates, staying with
her most of the time, and appearing to love her so much that I thought
it would not be long before I should venture to tell him the truth. I
went South on a little business which a companion and myself had planned
together--the very laudable business of stealing negroes from one State
and selling them in another. Some of you know that I was caught in my
traffic, and that the negro stealer Sullivan, was safely lodged in
prison, from which he was released but two days since. Fearing there
might be some mistake, I wrote from my prison home to Adah herself, but
suppose it did not reach New York till after she had left it. My poor,
dear little girl, thoughts of her have helped to make me a better man
than I ever was before. I am not perfect now, but I certainly am not as
hard, as wicked, or bad as when I first wore the felon's dress."
A casual observer would have said that Densie Densmore had heard less of
that strange story than any one else, but her hearing faculties had been
sharpened, and not a word was missed by her--not a link lost in the
entire narrative, and when the narrator expressed his love for his
daughter, she darted upon him again, shrieking wildly:
"And that child whom you loved was the baby you stole, and I shall see
her again--shall hear that blessed name of mother from her own sweet
lips."
A little apart from the others, his eyes fixed earnestly upon the
convict, stood Hugh. His mind, too, had gathered in every fact, but he
had reached a widely different conclusion from what poor Densie had.
"Answer her," he said, gravely, as the convict did not reply. "Tell her
if Adah be her child, or--'Lina--which?"
Had a clap of thunder cleft the air around her, 'Lina could not have
started up sooner than she did. The convict took his eyes away from her,
pitying her so much, while Densie's bony hand was raised as if to thrust
her off, and Densie's voice exclaimed: "Not this, not this. She despises
me, a white nigger. I will not be her mother. The other one--Densie, I
named her--she is mine--"
The convict shook his head. "No, Densie, not Adah, I kept her, my lawful
child, and sent the other back. It was a bold move, and I wonder it was
not questioned, but Adaline's eyes were not so black then as they are
now, and though six months older than the other, she was small for her
age, and cannot now be so tall as Adah. The mark, too, must have
strengthened the deception, as I knew it would, and eighteen months
sometimes changes a child materially; so Eliza took it for granted that
the girl she received as Adaline, and whose real name was Densie, was
her own; but Adah Hastings is her daughter and Hugh's half-sister, while
this young woman is--the child of myself and Densie Densmore!"
Alice, Anna, and the doctor looked aghast, while Mrs. Worthington
murmured audibly: "Adah, Adah, darling Adah, she always seemed near to
me; and Willie, precious Willie--oh, I want them here now!"
One mother had claimed her own, but alas, the fond cry of welcome to
sweet Adah Hastings was a death knell to 'Lina, for it seemed to shut
her out of that gentle woman's heart. There was no place for her, and in
her terrible desolation she stood alone, her eyes wandering wistfully
from one to another, but turning very quickly when they fell on the
white-haired Densie, her mother. She would not have it so; she could not
own the woman she had affected to despise, that servant for her mother,
that villain for her father, and worse--oh, infinitely worse than
all--she had no right to be born! A child of sin and shame, disgraced,
disowned, forsaken. It was a terrible blow, and the proud girl staggered
beneath it.
"Will no one speak to me?" she said, at last; "no one break this
dreadful silence? Has everybody forsaken me? Do you all loathe and hate
the offspring of such parents? Won't somebody pity and care for me?"
"Yes, 'Lina," and Hugh--the one from whom she had the least right to
expect pity--Hugh came to her side; and winding his arm around her,
said, with a choking voice: "I will not forsake you, 'Lina; I will care
for you the same as ever, and so long as I have a home you shall have
one, too."
"Oh, Hugh, I don't deserve this from you!" was 'Lina's faint response,
as she laid her head upon his bosom, whispering: "Take me away--from
them all--upstairs--on the bed I am so sick, and my head is bursting
open!"
Hugh was strong as a young giant, and lifting gently the yielding form,
he bore it from the room--the bridal room, which she would never enter
again, until he brought her back--and laid her softly down beneath the
windows, dropping tears upon her white, still face, and whispering:
"Poor 'Lina!"
As Hugh passed out with his burden in his arms, the bewildered company
seemed to rally; but the convict was the first to act. Turning to Mrs.
Worthington he said:
"Eliza, I am here to-night for my children's sake; and now that I have
done what I came to do, I shall leave you, only asking that you continue
to be a mother to the poor girl who is really the only sufferer. The
rest have cause for joy; you in particular," turning to the doctor, who
suddenly seemed to break the spell which had bound him, and springing to
his feet, exclaimed:
"Yes, Lily shall he found, Lily shall be found; but I must see my boy
first. Anna, can't we go now, to-night?"
That was impossible, Alice said; and as hers was the only clear head in
the household, she set herself at once to plan for everybody. To the
convict and the doctor she paid no heed; but the tired Anna was
conducted at once to her own room, and made to take the rest she so much
needed. Densie too was cared for kindly, soothingly; for the poor old
woman was nearly crushed with all she had heard; and Alice, as she left
her upon the bed, heard her muttering deliriously to herself:
"She wouldn't let her own mother eat with her. She compared me to a
white nigger; and can I receive her now? No, no; and she don't wish it.
Yet I pitied her when her heart snapped to pieces there in the middle of
the room; poor girl, poor girl!"
When Alice returned again to the parlor, the convict had gone. There had
been a short consultation between himself and the doctor, an engagement
to meet in Cincinnati to arrange their plan of search; and then he had
turned again to his once wife, still sitting in her corner, motionless,
white, and paralyzed with nervous terror.
"You need not fear me, Eliza," he said, kindly, "I shall probably never
trouble you again; and though you have no cause to believe my word, I
tell you solemnly that I will never rest until I have found our
daughter, and sent her back to you. Be kind to Densie Densmore; she was
more sinned against than sinning. Good-by, Eliza, good-by."
He did not offer her his hand; he knew she would not touch it; but with
one farewell look of contrition and regret, he left her, and mounting
the horse which had brought him there, he dashed away from Spring Bank,
just as Colonel Tiffton reined up to the gate.
Nell would give him no peace until he went over to see what it all meant
and if there really was to be no wedding. It was Alice who met him in
the hall, explaining to him as much as she thought necessary, and asking
him, on his return, to wait a little by the field gate, and turn back
any other guest who might be on the road.
The colonel promised compliance with her request, and thus were kept
away two carriage loads of people whose curiosity had prompted them to
disregard the contents of the note brought to them so mysteriously.
Spring Bank was not honored with wedding guests that night; and when the
clock struck eight, the appointed hour for the bridal, only the
bridegroom sat in the dreary parlor, his head bent down upon the sofa
arm, and his chest heaving with the sobs he could not repress as he
thought of all poor Lily had suffered since he left her so cruelly. Hugh
had told him what he did not understand before. He had come into the
room for his mother, whom 'Lina was pleading to see; and after leading
her to the chamber of the half-delirious girl, he had returned to the
doctor, and related to him all he knew of Adah, dwelling long upon her
gentleness and beauty, which had won from him a brother's love, even
though he knew not she was his Sister.
"I was a wretch, a villain!" the doctor groaned. Then looking wistfully
at Hugh, he said: "Do you think she loves me still? Listen to what she
says in her farewell to Anna," and with faltering voice, he read: "That
killed the love and now, if I could, I would not be his except for
Willie's sake.' Do you think she meant it?"
"I have no doubt of it, sir. How could her love outlive everything?
Curses and blows might not have killed it, but when you thought to ruin
her good name, to deny your child, she would be less than woman could
she forgive. Why, I hate and despise you myself for the wrong you have
done my sister," and Hugh's tall form seemed to take on an increased
height as he stood, gazing down on one who could not meet his eye, but
cowered and hid his face.
It was the first time Hugh had called Adah "my sister," and it seemed to
fill every nook and corner of his great heart with unutterable love for
the absent girl. "Sister, sister," he kept repeating to himself, and as
he did so, his resentful indignation grew toward the man who had so
cruelly deceived her, until at last he abruptly left the room, lest his
hot temper should get the mastery, and he knock down his dastardly
brother-in-law, as he greatly wished to do.
It was a sad house at Spring Bank that night, and only the negroes were
capable of any enjoyment. Terrified at first at what by dint of
listening they saw and heard, they assembled in the kitchen, and
together rehearsed the strange story, wondering if none of the tempting
supper prepared with so much care would be touched by the whites. If
not, they, of course, had the next best right, and when about midnight
Mrs. Worthington passed hurriedly through the dining-room, the table
gave evidence that somebody had partaken of the marriage feast, and not
very sparingly either. But she did not care, her thoughts were divided
between the distant Adah, her daughter--her own--the little brown-eyed
child she had been so proud of years ago, and the moaning, wretched girl
upstairs, 'Lina, tossing distractedly from side to side; now holding her
throbbing head, and now thrusting out her hot, dry hands, as if to keep
off some fancied form, whose hair, she said, was white as snow, and who
claimed to be her mother.
The shock had been a terrible one to 'Lina--terrible in more senses than
one. She did love Dr. Richards; and the losing him was enough of itself
to drive her mad; but worse even than this, and far more humiliating to
her pride, was the discovery of her parentage, the knowing that a
convict was her father, a common servant her mother, and that no
marriage tie had hallowed her birth.
"Oh, I can't bear it!" she cried. "I can't. I wish I might die! Will
nobody kill me? Hugh, you will, I know!"
But Hugh was away for the family physician, for he would not trust a
gossiping servant to do the errand. Once before that doctor had stood by
'Lina's bedside, and felt her feverish pulse, but his face then was not
as anxious as now. He did not speak of danger, but Hugh, who watched him
narrowly, read it in his face, and following him down the stairs, asked
to be told the truth.
"She is going to be very sick. She may get well, but I have little to
hope from symptoms like hers."
That was the doctor's reply, and with a sigh Hugh went back to the sick
girl, who had given him little else than sarcasm and scorn.