“I SHALL GO MAD.”
The sound slumber into which Robert had fallen was broken by the
sweetest strains of music. He sat up on his couch and rubbed his eyes,
trying to arouse himself; he was bewildered, yet enchanted, for the
strains continued, now bursting forth into joyous melody, then dying
away into the softest cadences, and finally sweeping on into intense
passion and sadness.
They seemed to come from behind his bed, and he vowed to himself that
mortal ear never before heard such exquisite music.
It sounded like a voice accompanied by a harp, and the tones so clear,
so sweet, were like the chiming of delicate silver bells.
He examined the tapestry hangings and found a place where they could be
parted; he pulled aside the heavy folds, and saw a ponderous block of
stone upon hinges, and swung open a foot or so into his chamber.
Determined to learn all he could of this strange underground castle, and
hoping this might be some secret passage which would lead him to
liberty, he swung the block still farther back, and sweeping the heavy
curtain aside, he beheld a fairy bower of beauty and elegance.
The room was about the size of the one assigned to him, but hung with
elegant white velvet, with gilt and purple trimmings. The carpet, also
of white velvet, was strewn with great purple pansies, so perfect with
their golden centers, and in their royal beauty, that Robert scarcely
dared to step lest he should crush out their brilliant hues.
The furniture, of purple and white, and framed in gilt, was of the most
exquisite and graceful pattern. Lovely paintings and statues adorned the
walls and niches of the room, and upon a table of some foreign wood
inlaid with pearl, were scattered richly bound books, music, and all the
delicate little trifles which one so likes to see in a lady’s boudoir.
Over this table, and perched daintily upon one foot in his fancy cage,
was a canary of purest gold, ever and anon twittering and chirping an
echo to the song of his fair mistress.
For several moments Robert scarcely dared to breathe, lest the lovely
scene should melt away before his vision, and he awake and find it all a
dream. He stood transfixed and amazed; every step he took in this
strange smugglers’ fortress, he discovered new beauties and fresh
mysteries.
Upon a divan, dressed in spotless white, sat a golden-haired maiden,
lightly fingering a magnificent harp, and pouring forth her soul in
song.
Her face was fair and pure as a lily, and round, sweet, and almost
babyish in its contour. Her heavily fringed lids drooped over a pair of
purple-blue eyes, and almost lay upon her delicately tinted cheeks,
while occasionally a bright drop left their wondrous depths and rolled
like a sparkling dewdrop down upon the purple pansies at her feet.
All at once her song ceased, and with a deep sigh the bright beauty
bowed her lovely head and rested it against the harp before her.
Almost involuntarily the sigh was echoed from our hero’s breast, and the
spell was broken.
The young girl started violently, and rising, a low, frightened cry
broke from her ripe lips as her glance rested upon Robert.
He recognized her at once.
She was the same beautiful maiden whom he had seen the previous evening,
and who had entertained him with her music while he was eating his
supper.
He saw that she was startled by his presence, and raising his hand with
a reassuring gesture, he said, respectfully:
“I pray you, fair lady, do not be alarmed. I mean you no harm. Some kind
fate, or Providence, has opened a secret passage between your room and
mine, and impelled partly by curiosity, partly by your beautiful song, I
ventured to seek its source. Is my apology accepted?”
She raised her liquid orbs to his, while a bright blush suffused her
face, and bowed her graceful little head in token of assent, but spoke
no word in reply.
“I am a captive,” Robert went on to explain, “put here by some bitter
enemy, and I must needs believe you are in a like situation, for no one
so fair and lovely would voluntarily remain in these vaults, gloomy
despite their oriental magnificence.”
“I am a prisoner, and yet I am not a prisoner. There are circumstances
which would compel me to remain here were every secret door and passage
thrown open to give me liberty,” replied the lovely being, in tones so
sweet, yet so sad, that the tears involuntarily started to our hero’s
eyes.
“Can such a thing be possible?” he asked in surprise.
“Yes, for I have no other home in all the wide, wide world, and while I
mourn, I am still glad, for it is in my power to protect and minister to
others, who, like yourself, are held in captivity here.”
“Will you forgive my curiosity, and explain yourself more fully? Or do I
intrude? If so I will retire at once?”
Robert’s eyes pleaded hard to be allowed to remain, though he made a
motion as if about to retreat.
“Nay, be seated,” the girl replied, waving him to a seat, and at the
same time sinking back upon the divan from which she had risen.
Robert took the seat indicated, and anxiously waited for his fair
hostess to resume the conversation.
At length she said, with a strain of sympathy in her sweet voice:
“I know something of your history, and partly the reason why you are
confined here, and I sorrow every day I live that I cannot in some way
be the means of liberating the unfortunate ones who are so often brought
here. But I am only a weak woman, and can do but very little against so
many wicked men.”
Robert thought that she was a very, very beautiful woman, if she was
weak; almost as lovely as Dora.
“I told you,” she continued, “that I have no other home. My mother is
dead. My father I never saw, as he deserted his wife before I was born.
My uncles, who were once rich and prosperous, have spent all their
wealth in trying to hunt down the man who so deeply wronged their
sister; and when she died they took me, a poor little orphan, brought me
up and educated me, suffering every privation that I might not be denied
any dainty or luxury.
“Finally their last dollar was spent, and in their desperation they
joined this band of smugglers, and while on some business for the gang
in the United States they discovered my father.
“They watched and dogged his every step until he came to this country,
and are now waiting for a favorable opportunity to wreak their vengeance
upon him, and claim my rights, after which they have promised me they
will forever renounce this wicked business.”
“You say the man, who is your father, is now in this country,” said
Robert, as he paused for a moment.
“Yes, in the country and in this very village, though why he is here, I
do not know, unless a righteous Providence has driven him here to compel
him to do justice to the wronged.”
A shade of sadness clouded her fair brow, and a deep sigh broke from her
lips.
“Will you tell me this unnatural father’s name?” asked Robert.
“Ralph Moulton.”
“Ralph Moulton!” exclaimed Robert, wildly. “Which—who—what—pardon me, I
am so taken by surprise. But will you please tell me in what part of the
United States your uncles found him?”
Our hero leaned breathlessly forward, awaiting her reply.
“In S——, Massachusetts,” she answered, glancing up in gentle surprise.
“The same—the very same. How exceedingly strange!” he replied, starting
to his feet and pacing back and forth.
“Do you know this man, who, I am told, is my father?”
“Know him?” replied Robert, bitterly. “I know him as an enemy—as my
father’s bitterest enemy; and I begin to feel convinced that he is
concerned in that plot against me. Yes, yes; I see it all now—fool that
I have been, not to think of it before!”
He struck his hand violently against his brow as he recalled what the
chief had told him—about his father’s unlawful marriage, and his being
an illegitimate son.
Then his mind went far back to the day when he and Dora went to the
squire to be married; his questions and emotion concerning his mother;
and he realized at once that there was a deep and vile plot on foot to
destroy him.
He remembered that the squire had a nephew, and was convinced that it
was he who had seen Dora, become attached to her, and was resolved to
marry her, taking this way to get rid of him in order to make his own
way clear.
He was deeply agitated, and wondered what his father thought had become
of him. And Dora—would she think he had willfully deserted her? He
feared so, feeling that his enemy would urge this view of the case, and
eventually win her for himself.
He was nearly frantic with the thought, and forgot where he was—forgot
everything but that he would wreak the bitterest vengeance upon the vile
plotters, could he but lay his hands upon them; and wrung his hands in
his agony, utterly regardless of the two beautiful eyes that were
wistfully following his every movement.
“Yes, yes; it is as I fear, without doubt. Oh, why does Heaven permit
such wickedness to go unpunished? Is there no way that I can escape,
that I may thwart them? Oh, Heaven, give me strength to bear this, or I
shall go mad!”
He threw himself, exhausted, into a chair, and groaned aloud.
The lovely girl opposite him arose, and gliding softly to his side, laid
one of her small white hands upon his arm, and said:
“My friend, I begin to believe that a kind Providence has indeed led you
to me to-day; and that our lives and destinies are in some mysterious
way connected, and the same person has done us both a foul wrong. I pray
that you will have confidence in me. Tell me your story, and perhaps I
may be able to help you, or rather we may be able to help each other.”
He looked at her with a sad, yet admiring glance, and taking her little
hand, pressed it reverently to his lips; then said:
“My dear young lady, you do me honor to put so much faith and trust in
me; while at the same time you shame me with your courage and calmness.
I thank you sincerely for your sympathy, for your gentle eyes tell me I
have that. But I am selfish to be so bound up in my own sorrows and
troubles, besides being rude to interrupt so abruptly your story. Please
pardon me, and continue your narrative, after which I shall, in return,
tell you my own history.”
He led her gently to a sofa, and taking a seat beside her signified his
readiness to listen to her tale.