A FATHER’S ANXIETY.
When the squire recovered from his fit of merriment, which lasted many
minutes, he replied, in a voice of intense satisfaction:
“Oh, my fine gentleman, that is too good! The joke is really refreshing,
after my hard labor in accomplishing what I have. It is truly very
cunning of you to seek to blind my eyes in that manner, when you know
that the marriage between your son and Miss Dupont is rendered null and
void—that you have the signature of both parties in your pocket at this
very minute, agreeing to consider it so. You are very smart, Robert
Ellerton, but I must own that I am a little ahead of you, this time.”
The look of blank and troubled amazement which spread itself over Mr.
Ellerton’s face, at this unexpected disclosure, was distressing to see.
And with a disturbed and crest-fallen air, he exclaimed:
“Who told you—how do you know?”
“How do I know? Very easily. My little plot has worked finely,
gloriously; and a few days more will see the consummation of my dearest
hopes. The paper you have is all a forgery, except the girl’s signature,
as are also the letters which you and she received. But that is no
matter, for one of their signatures is sufficient to break the marriage,
which is all I want. Perhaps you would like to know why? I will gladly
inform you. You are aware that I have a nephew. You know who he is,
although you have never been willing to recognize the tie that binds him
to you. Well, this nephew is very much in love with Miss Dora Dupont,
and wishes to make her his wife, which she never could be legally unless
she signed a document consenting to a divorce from your son. Ralph
Moulton Ellerton—oh, you need not start, you know that ought to be his
name—realized that she would never give up her first love unless her
pride was severely wounded, so he planned this little plot, forged the
necessary papers—with what success you already know—and in a few days
she will be his bride.”
“Coward! dastard! you don’t mean to tell me that she will willingly
become his wife!”
“Oh, no! she has not even been asked to consent to it yet. She will be
forced into the contract, and learn to love him afterward, you know!”
said the wretch, making a horrible grimace.
“But such a marriage will not be legal. The law would never recognize
it,” returned Mr. Ellerton, in a composed manner. He was utterly
confounded by the bold wickedness of the other.
“Ha, ha! The law won’t have anything to do with it. The young lady will
be wedded here, in the presence of witnesses enough to prove all that is
necessary. And when she is set at liberty it will be too late for the
law to do anything about it.”
“And my boy—my boy! what is to become of him?” now gasped the thoroughly
frightened father, as he began to realize how firm was the web that
entangled himself and son, how cunningly the plot had been laid, and how
fatal the snare into which they had been enticed.
“Oh! you begin to think my vengeance is going to amount to something
after all; don’t you? I swore you should rue the day you stole my bride,
and now your son shall taste some of the bitterness which I have
realized!”
“What have you done with him?”
“He is safe, where I can clap my hands upon him the moment I want him.”
“Where is he, I ask you? Oh! you will not murder my boy!” shrieked the
agonized father.
“Murder him? No!” replied his foe, with a sneer, “I would not have him
die on any account. I should feel deeply disappointed should anything
happen to him. I want him to live, and drag out a miserable existence,
as I have done, without the cheering smile of one he loves; I want him
to see her the wife of another, and let his heart wither and die within
his breast, and to have life become a dreary, wretched burden, almost
too tedious to be borne.”
“Oh, Heaven! Is it possible that such wicked heartlessness can dwell
upon this fair earth? Is there no mercy in your hard heart?” he cried,
with a look almost of despair written upon his pale features.
“No, not an atom! Was there mercy in your heart for me when you stole
Jessie Almyr almost from my arms?” asked the vile wretch, with a wicked
leer.
Poor Mr. Ellerton dropped into his chair, groaning in anguish. Oh, could
he but burst his prison bars, what direful vengeance would he wreak upon
his tormentor! He would trample him into the very dust; he would grind
him to powder, for this shameful wrong.
Some moments elapsed in silence, while each was busy with his own
thoughts, the squire full of irrepressible joy, and his captive’s heart
beating with sad despair. At last the squire spoke:
“You seem to be enjoying this little drama so much, my friend, that I
will proceed with it to the end. I have another cunningly devised fable
to relate to you. As I said before, you know who my nephew is, and what
his true name ought to be. I have made him acquainted with that fact,
and planned a way for him to obtain it. I made a few alterations in the
story to suit my own arrangements, however. I will explain why he was so
ready to join me in my plans for your destruction. I told him that you
were his father; that you pretended to marry his mother, who was my
cousin; that you lived with her until you saw my darling, when your
fickle heart turned to her, and her pretty face won you from your
fidelity to his mother. Then you coldly told her that your marriage was
only a farce, and you wanted nothing more to do with her, at the same
time heartlessly informing her that she must henceforth take care of
herself.”
“Wretch!——” began Mr. Ellerton, in a furious tone.
With a slight wave of the hand, and a taunting smile, the squire
replied:
“Yes; he thinks you are a wretch. But please do not interrupt me again;
it is very annoying. I told Ralph a pitiful story; how his beautiful
mother begged and pleaded at your feet that you would not forsake her in
her delicate situation, that you would not cast her and her child upon
the cold charities of the world. But to all you turned a deaf ear, and
went your way, and never saw her again. I also told him that you refused
to acknowledge him as your son, but lavished all your love and all your
wealth upon the son of his mother’s rival.
“The boy curses you from his heart, and believes himself your legal son
and heir, for I have shown him a paper which proves to him that your
marriage with his mother was legal. He joins me heart and hand, and as
soon as our business is ended here, he will return and try to establish
his claim to your name and fortune, which, you perceive, will be a very
easy matter to do with the proofs he has in his hands. Do you not think
it will be a proud day for your brilliant boy when he discovers his name
and honor are claimed by another, and believes himself to be only a
child of shame? And will not my revenge then be complete?”
“God will never allow such a foul lie to prosper—such a tissue of
lies—such a wicked fraud to succeed,” moaned the miserable man.
“Ha! ha! God! What has he to do with it?” was the impious retort. “If
you have a God, perhaps He will help you out of this fix. But I rather
think that Ralph Moulton will win the day this time.”
“You have not told me what you have done with my son. I demand to know
where he is.”
“Well, I don’t mind telling you, if it will be any satisfaction,”
replied the villain, with a malicious sparkle in his eye. “His agony, at
this moment, is almost equal to yours; for he is a prisoner within these
very vaults, and not a dozen yards from your own cell, but his life
shall be spared. When my nephew and myself have settled everything to
our own satisfaction, then he can go free.”
“And what is to become of me?” asked Mr. Ellerton, fixing his eye firmly
upon his foe.
“You,” he hissed, with a furious expression—“you shall die!”
“Fiend!—for none but a fiend could conceive so vile a plot—you dare not
do this dreadful thing!”
Mr. Ellerton grew white to his very lips, while a spasmodic quiver ran
over his frame at the thought.
Squire Moulton laughed a low, taunting laugh.
“You will never do what you propose,” at length Mr. Ellerton said, in a
firm, even tone. “Something will occur to prevent the perpetration of
such a crime. But be that as it may, you shall not rob my boy of his
name, his honor, and his pride. His fortune is not of so much account,
for he can carve out his own. You shall have it, every penny, for I have
it nearly all with me, only grant my boy this one boon. Oh, if there is
one drop of mercy in your heart, do not deny me this one request.
Promise me, promise me, and I will yield up everything else, even to my
very life.”
But the poor man might as well have pleaded to the cold and silent
walls. He noted the greedy sparkle in the squire’s eyes, when he
mentioned his having his fortune with him, and realized that his
pleadings were vain.
“Oh, ho! I thank you for your most generous offer,” was his reply. “But
I intend to have the fortune anyway. It was partly for this that I came
to see you to-day. I must have it before I leave this place, together
with that paper we spoke of; and—listen”—he hissed the words from
between his teeth—“the next time I come, I promise you that you shall go
to join your long-lost and much-loved wife.”
“Craven, is not your soul already black enough?”
“Ha! I must hunt you to death, or my triumph will not be complete. Come,
now, hand over your funds, for I must hasten to other matters.”
“Never, sir! You will never get them from me until you take them from my
dead body, and that, I warn you, will never be, for—villain, you die!”
Mr. Ellerton had spoken with a calm, defiant air, and as he muttered the
last words he hastily pulled a pistol from his breast, and leveling it
at his enemy, fired!
Just an instant too late! for Squire Moulton darted like a flash to one
side, and the ball sped harmlessly across the narrow passage, and
flattened itself against the impenetrable rock beyond.
Mr. Ellerton then drew another pistol from its hiding-place, and calmly
awaited what should follow.
Squire Moulton, from his position of safety, realized the danger he
should be in if he revealed himself, and taking a silver whistle from
his pocket he blew it.
Immediately footsteps were heard, and two rough-looking men appeared.
Both of them cast baleful glances at the squire from beneath their
shaggy brows, showing at once that they were not friends of his,
although they might be obliged to obey him for the present.
One of them glanced eagerly within the cell, and his eyes lighted
peculiarly as he caught sight of the firm, defiant form within.
“Go within and bind that man. Search him thoroughly, and bring me
whatever you may find about his person,” commanded Squire Moulton, as
they appeared.
“Hold!” cried Mr. Ellerton. “I have no wish to shed blood, but I warn
you, that the first one who attempts to lay his hand upon me, dies. I
only act in self-defense.”
He held his pistol cocked, and ready for action. But the man before
mentioned fixed his eyes calmly upon him, and quickly made a peculiar
sign, and the weapon dropped from the prisoner’s nerveless hand upon the
floor of his cell.
The door was quickly unlocked, and both men approached the prisoner, who
allowed himself to be searched and robbed of his possessions without the
slightest resistance, though his eyes closely questioned the one who had
made that strange signal. And a look of blank surprise remained upon his
countenance meanwhile.
Suddenly the stranger bent over him, and as he pretended to be busily
unfastening a purse-belt from his waist, whispered:
“Courage! we are friends, and will strive to set you right, and free,
ere long. Had you obeyed the warning you would not be here. Make no
sign, but be on the watch!”
He then gathered up the booty, and carried it all to the squire, and
they departed, leaving the unfortunate man to himself again.
But he felt cheered, even at the light ray of hope offered him, though
his blood boiled within him at the heartless torture he had been
subjected to by his relentless enemy. And he prayed that the day might
come when the tables would be turned, and the miserable wretch brought
to justice.