GONE TO HIS DOOM.
Meanwhile Alfred Ellerton had found the Italian brothers, who had
retreated into the background when the long-lost wife presented herself;
but they now came forward, and stood proudly and coldly before the
squire, having first sought and found Vivien, who still remained with
Fredrich Weimher, both seeming to find an irresistible charm in each
other’s society.
They, too, came near, but took their places behind Squire Moulton, where
he could not see them until the proper moment should arrive for Vivien
to reveal herself.
“Well, what now?” snarled the villain, as, on looking up, he beheld, as
he supposed, two of the smugglers standing in front of him.
“Your doom!” was the stern response, while both men threw aside their
rough garments, and stood revealed in their true characters as Italian
noblemen.
A shriek of craven fear rang long and loud throughout the lofty cavern,
and finally died away among the glittering arches above; then a
death-like silence ensued for a few moments, while, with rigid face and
starting eyes, the unhappy wretch gazed upon the forms before him as if
they had been ghosts from the other world, come back to haunt and
torture him with fearful memories.
At length the elder spoke, in tones that froze the listeners’ blood.
“Our oath is nearly fulfilled, and the fearful wrong you did our sister
is about to be avenged, and justice will at last be done. We have hunted
and tracked you for long, long years; we have seen you plot evil and
suffering for others, and only waited for a favorable opportunity to
wreak our own vengeance upon you. That opportunity has at last arrived.
You are soon to be called to account for your treacherous and
sin-blackened career.”
“Oh, you will not kill me; you will let me live a little longer!” cried
the wretched man, trembling with terror.
“Who killed our sister? Who came into a peaceful, loving family, created
discord and sorrow, blighted every joy and hope it had ever known,
dishonored its fair name, and broke the hearts of a loving father and a
tender, devoted daughter? Do you deserve to be spared? Think you there
is one iota of pity in my heart for such a wretch as you? No! As I said
before, your doom is sealed, and justice shall have her due.”
“Mercy—mercy!” the squire gasped, writhing in agony at their feet.
“Mercy!” thundered Count Gerient, of Lamerack. “Were you merciful when
you deserted her whose innocent heart and affections were won by your
artful schemes, whom you made your wife that you might fill your purse
with gold, and finding none, pronounced your marriage a trick, broke her
gentle heart, and heartlessly left her to suffer poverty and childbirth
alone. Mercy to such as you? Wretch, unnatural father, who never cared
even to look upon his offspring’s face, or clasp in his arms the tiny
creature formed from his own flesh and blood! No! no mercy shall be
shown you; we have sworn it, and our oath is inviolable.”
The cringing villain turned shiveringly to his sister; his teeth
chattered in his head, and huge drops of cold perspiration rolled down
his shrunken cheeks.
“Oh, Rose,” he cried, “plead for me; do not let them murder me; think
how I reared your boy; I cared for him for over twenty years, and do I
not deserve something for it? I cannot die now. I shall go to eternal
perdition—oh, save me, save me!”
His sister’s lips curled slightly at the sight of his abject fear,
though her face was pale as death as she replied, huskily:
“It would please me better, Ralph Moulton, to see you on your knees
pleading to Heaven for mercy. You cannot expect much love from me,
though I would that you had time to repent.”
“Oh, Heaven! will no one help me?”
“Here cometh one, and it shall be as she says,” sternly said the Count
Gerient, as he beckoned Vivien to come forward.
She came, pale as marble, but beautiful as an angel, leaning upon
Fredrich Weimher’s arm.
Slowly, softly she glided forward, and stood before the kneeling wretch.
He did not see her at once, she had come so silently; but chancing to
raise his eyes after a moment, he instantly started wildly to his feet,
his eyes protruded from their sockets, his nostrils dilated, and his
under jaw dropped like a dead man’s.
“Back!” screamed Squire Moulton, frantically. “Back to the land of
spirits whence you came. Heavens! why come you here to torture me thus?”
“Villain, it is your daughter!” said her uncle, solemnly.
“It is a lie! Back with you—come no nearer—mercy—Vivien!”
With a shriek of mortal agony that pierced every heart like an arrow,
that rang and echoed, and rang again through that lofty, spacious
cavern, curdling the blood in every vein, and paling every cheek with
horror, the miscreant, by a mighty effort, burst the fetters that bound
his hands, waved them wildly in the air for a moment, then tottered
forward, swaying from side to side, and fell prostrate again at Vivien’s
feet.
With a moan of fear and anguish, the lovely girl closed her eyes upon
the horrible scene, and sank fainting upon the bosom of him who
supported her. Ralph and his father sprang forward and raised the form
of the prostrate squire; but life had fled, and they raised only a
stiffening corpse.
The heart disease that so many years had threatened him, hanging like an
avenging sword ever above him, had cut him down in an instant and he had
gone to his reward; gone to where justice would be dealt unto him, not
by the weak and erring hands of humanity, but by a stern and righteous
Judge.