The apartment eight by twelve feet possessed the redeeming feature of a
high ceiling, and on either side of the southwest corner wall, a window
only two feet wide allowed the afternoon sunshine to print upon the
bare floor the shadow of longitudinal iron bars fastened into the stone
sills. A narrow bedstead, merely a low black cot of interlacing iron
straps, stood against the eastern side, and opposite, a broad shelf,
also of iron, ran along the walls and held a tin ewer and basin, a few
books, and a pile of clothing neatly folded.
Across the angle niche between the windows a wooden bench had been
drawn; in front of it stood a chair and oval table, on which lay some
sheets of paper, pen and ink, and a great bunch of yellow jasmine, and
wild pink azaleas that lavishly sprinkled the air with their delicate
spicery. Pencils, crayons, charcoal and several large squares of
cardboard and drawing-paper were heaped at one end of the bench, and
beside these sat the occupant of the cell, leaning with folded arms on
the table in front of her; and holding in her lap the vicious,
ocelot-eyed yellow cat.
Against the shimmering glory of Spring sunshine streaming down upon
her, head and throat were outlined like those of haloed martyrs that
Mantegna and Sodoma left as imperishable types of patient suffering.
When the visitor came forward to the table that barred nearer approach,
she made no attempt to rise, and for a moment both were mute. He saw
the noble head shorn of its splendid coronal of braids, and covered
thickly with short, waving, bronzed tendrils of silky hair, that held
in its glistening mesh the reddish lustre of old gold, and the deep
shadows of time-mellowed mahogany. That most skilful of all sculptors,
hopeless sorrow, had narrowed to a perfect oval the wan face, waxen in
its cold purity; and traced about the exquisite mouth those sad,
patient curves that attest suffering which sublimates, that belong
alone to the beauty of holiness. Eyes unusually large and shadowy now,
beneath their black fringes, were indescribably eloquent with the
pathos of a complete, uncomplaining surrender to woes that earth could
never cure; and the slender wasted fingers, in their bloodless
semi-transparency, might have belonged to some chiselled image of
death. Every jot and tittle of the degrading external badges of felony
had been meted out, and instead of the mourning garment she had worn in
court, her dress to-day was of the coarse dark-blue home-spun checked
with brown, which constituted the prison uniform of female convicts.
As Mr. Dunbar noted the solemn repose, the pathetic grace with which
she endured the symbols that emblazoned her ignominous doom, a dark red
glow suffused his face, a flush of shame for the indignity which he had
been impotent to avert.
"Who dared to cut your hair--and thrust that garb upon you? They
promised me you should be exempt from brands of felony."
"When one is beaten with many stripes, a blow more or less matters
little; is not computed. They kindly tell me that illness and the
doctor's commands cost me the loss of my hair; and after all, why
should I object to the convict coiffure? Nothing matters any more."
"Why not admit at once that, Bernice-like, you freely offered up your
beautiful hair as love's sacrifice?"
He spoke hotly, and an ungovernable rage possessed him as he realized
that though so near, and apparently so helpless, she was yet so
immeasurably removed, so utterly inaccessible. Her drooping white lids
lifted; she looked steadily up at him, and the mournful eyes held no
hint of denial. He stretched his hand across the table, and all the
gnawing hunger at his heart leaped into his voice, that trembled with
entreaty.
"For God's sake give me your hand just once, as proof that you forgive
my share in this cruel, dastardly outrage."
"Do not touch me. When we shake hands it must be as seal upon a very
sacred compact, which you are not yet ready to make."
She straightened herself, and her hands were removed from the table;
fell to stroking the cat lying on her knee.
"What conditions would you impose upon me?"
"Sit down, Mr. Dunbar, and let us transact the necessary business which
alone made this interview possible."
With an imperious gesture, befitting some sovereign who reluctantly
accords audience, she motioned him to the chair, and as he seated
himself his eyes gleamed ominously.
"It pleases you to ignore our past relations?"
"Even so. To-day we meet merely as attorney and client to arrange the
final QUID PRO QUO. You have brought the paper?"
"I inferred from your message that you desired as exact a copy as
memory permitted. Here it is."
He took from his pocket a long legal envelope.
"I believe you stated that your father originally drew up this paper,
and that recently you altered and re-wrote it?"
"Those are the facts relative to it."
"Can you recall the date of the revision?"
"Nearly a year ago. Last May it was signed in the presence of Doctor
Ledyard and Colonel Powell, who also signed as witnesses, though
ignorant of its contents."
"You offer me this as a correct expression of Gen'l Darrington's wishes
regarding the distribution of his estate, real and personal?"
"At your request I furnish from memory a copy of Gen'l Darrington's
will, which I have faithfully endeavored to recall, and I
conscientiously believe this to be strictly accurate. Shall I read it?"
A severe and prolonged fit of coughing delayed her reply; and when she
held out her hand for the paper, her breathing was painfully rapid and
labored.
"I will not tax you. Let me glance over it."
Spreading the long sheets open before her, she leaned over the table
and read.
In the palm of her right hand rested her temple, and the left smoothed
and turned the leaves. Crossing his arms on the top of the table, the
attorney bent forward and surrendered himself to the coveted delight of
studying the face, that had made summary shipwreck of his matrimonial
fortune. No slightest detail escaped him; the burnished locks curled
loosely around the forehead smooth as a sleeping baby's, the broad arch
of the delicately-pencilled black brows, the Madonna droop of the lids
whose heavy sable fringes deepened the bluish shadows beneath the eyes,
the straight, flawless nose, the perfect chin with its deeply-incised
dimple, the remarkably beautiful mouth, which despairing grief had
kissed and made its own.
Pale as marble, the proud, patrician face was pure as some bending lily
frozen on its graceful, rounded stem: and the tapering fingers with
daintily curved, polished nails would have suited better the lace and
velvet of royal robes than the rough home-spun sleeves folded back from
the white wrists.
Mr. Dunbar had met many lovely, gracious, high-bred women, yet escaped
heart whole; and even the nobility and sweetness of his pretty fiancee,
enhanced by the surrounding glamour of heiresship, failed to touch the
flood gates of tender love that a pauper's hand had suddenly unloosed,
to sweep as a destroying torrent through the fair garden of his most
cherished hopes. What was the spell exerted by the young convict when
she grappled his heart, and in the havoc of her own life carried down
all the possibilities of his future peace? Personal ambition,
calculating mercenary selfishness had melted away in the volcanic
madness that seized him, and to his own soul he acknowledged that his
dominant and supreme wish was to gather in his arms and hold forever
the condemned woman, who wore with such sublime serenity the livery of
felony.
After all, have we misread our classics? Had not Homer a prevision of
the faith that Aphrodites' altar belonged in the Temple of the Fates?
Beryl refolded the paper and looked up. In the face so close to hers,
she saw all the yearning tenderness, the over-mastering love that had
convulsed his nature, and before the pleading magnetic eyes that
essayed to probe her soul, hers fell.
As out of a cloud, some burst of sunlight striking through the ruby
vestments of apostles in a cathedral window falls aslant and suddenly
crimsons the marble features of a sculptured angel guarding the high
altar, so unexpectedly a vivid blush dyed the girl's cheeks. Her lips
trembled; she swept her hand across her eyes as though blotting out
some fascination upon which it was not her privilege to dwell; then the
glow faded, she moved back on the bench, and leaned her head against
the wall.
"Where are the bonds and other securities described in this paper?"
"In a compartment of the safety deposit vault of the--Bank, of which
Gen'l Darrington was a large stockholder and director. His box was
opened last week in presence of his adopted son, and we hoped to find
perhaps a duplicate of the lost will; but there was not even a
memorandum to indicate his last wishes."
"Can you tell me whether Mr. Prince Darrington will take any legal
steps to recover the legacy which the loss of the will appears to have
cancelled?"
"He certainly has no such intention."
"Are you quite sure of his views?"
"Absolutely sure, having talked with him this morning. I speak
authoritatively."
"He was entirely dependent on Gen'l Darrington?"
"Wholly so with regard to pecuniary resources."
"At present he is as much a beggar as I was that day when I first saw
X--? Is it true that want of money obliged him to quit Germany before
he obtained the university degree, for which his studies were intended
to fit him?"
"Strictly true. He sorely laments his inability to complete the course
of study, and hopes at some future day to return and reap the
distinction which he feels sure awaits him in scientific fields."
A brief silence followed, and the girl's thoughts seemed to drift far
from her gloomy surroundings to some lofty plane of peace beyond the
ills of time. Once more a spasm of coughing seized her; then she looked
at the attorney.
"I learned in court that the destruction of Gen'l Darrington's will
would secure to my mother the possession of all his estate. She has
entered into Rest; into possession of her heritage in Christ's kingdom.
Am I, her child, the lawful heir of Gen'l Darrington's fortune? Are
there any legal quibbles that could affect my rights?"
"I am aware of none. The estate is certainly yours, and the law will
sustain your claims."
"Claim? I only claim the right to repair as far as possible a wrong for
which I suffer, yet am not responsible. I sent for a copy of the will
because--"
"May I tell you why? Because in order to execute its provisions, it was
essential that you should know them accurately."
The assurance that he interpreted so correctly her motive, brought a
quick throb to her tired Heart, and a faint flush of pleasure to her
thin cheeks.
"Had you read as accurately my intentions, six months ago, when you
woke me from my sleep under the pine trees, how different the current
of many lives! Mr. Dunbar, my ignorance of legal forms constrains me to
accept your assistance in a matter which I am unwilling to delay--" She
hesitated, and he smiled bitterly.
"You need be at no trouble to emphasize your reluctance. I quite
understand your ineradicable repugnance. Nevertheless good luck ordains
that only I can serve you at present, so be pleased to command me."
"Thank you. I wish you to help me make my will."
"Why?"
"How long do you suppose I can endure this 'death in life?' I am
patient because I hope and believe my release is not far distant.
Galloping consumption is a short avenue to freedom."
He caught his breath, and the blood ebbed from his lips, but he hurled
aside the suggestion as though it were a coiled viper.
"Life has for you one charm which will successfully hold death at bay.
Love has sustained you thus far; it will lend wings to the years that
must ultimately bring the recompense for which you long, the sight of
him whose crime you expiate."
He could not understand the peculiar smile that parted her lips, nor
the far-away, preoccupied expression that crept into her sad eyes.
"Nevertheless I have decided to make my will. I desire that in every
detail it shall duplicate the provisions of the instrument I am
punished for having stolen and destroyed; and I charge you to write it
so carefully, that when all the legacies shall have been paid, the
residue of the estate cannot fail to reach the hands of the son for
whom it was intended. To Mr. Prince Darrington I give and bequeath,
mark you now, ALL MY RIGHT AND TITLE to the fortune left by Gen'l
Darrington."
"Before I pledge myself to execute this commission, I wish you to know
that of such testamentary disposition of your estate, I should become
remotely a beneficiary. Mr. Darrington has asked my only sister to be
his wife, and their marriage is contingent merely on his financial
ability to maintain her comfortably. Mine is scarcely the proper hand
to pour the rich stream of your possessions into his empty coffers."
"I am well aware of the tie that binds your sister and Mr. Darrington."
"Since when have you known it?"
"No prison walls are sufficiently thick to turn the stream of gossip;
it trickles, oozes through all barriers. Exactly when or how I became
acquainted with your family secret is not germane to the subject under
consideration."
"Cognizant of the fact that Gen'l Darrington's adopted son was my
prospective brother-in-law, you have paid me the compliment of
believing that selfish, pecuniary motives incited my zeal in securing
your prosecution, for the loss of the fortune I coveted? Your heart
garners that insult to me?"
The only storm signal that defied his habitual control, was the intense
glow in his eyes where an electric spark rayed out through the blue
depths.
"I might tell you, that my heart is a sepulchre too crowded with dead
hopes to hold resentment against their slayer; but you have a right to
something more. I pay you the just tribute of grateful admiration for
the unselfish heroism that prompted you to plead so eloquently in
defence of a forsaken woman who, living or dead, defrauded your sister
of a brilliant fortune. You fought courageously to save me, and I am
quite willing you should know that it is partly due to my recognition
of your bravery in leading that forlorn hope, that I am anxious by
immediate reparation to restore matters to their original status. Life
is so uncertain I can leave nothing to chance; and when my will is
signed and sealed, and in your possession, I shall know that even if I
should be suddenly set free, Mr. Darrington and your sister will enjoy
their heritage. When you will have drawn up the paper send it to Mr.
Singleton. I will sign it in his presence and that of the doctor, which
will suffice for witnesses."
"In view of the peculiar provisions of the will, I prefer you should
employ some other instrument for its preparation. Judge Dent, Churchill
or Wolverton, will gladly serve you, and I will send to you whomsoever
you select. I decline to become the medium of transferring the accursed
money that cost you so dearly, to the man whom my sister expects to
marry."
"As you will; only let there be no delay. Ask Judge Dent to prove his
friendship for Gen'l Darrington by enabling me to execute his wishes."
"Judge Dent went this morning to New York; but by the latter part of
the week you may expect the paper for signature."
"That relieves one anxiety, for while I was so ill I was tortured by
the thought that I could not make just restitution to innocent
sufferers. Mr. Dunbar, a yet graver apprehension now oppresses me. If I
should live, how can I put the rightful owners in immediate possession?
What process does the law prescribe for conveying the property directly
to Mr. Darrington?"
"Ordinarily the execution of a deed of gift from you to him, would
accomplish that object."
"Will you please write out the proper form on the paper in front of
you?"
"I certainly will not."
"May I know why?"
"For two reasons. Personally, the deed of gift would embarrass me even
more than the will. Professionally, it occurs to me you are not of age;
hence the transfer would be invalid at present. Pardon me, how old are
you?"
"I was eighteen on the fourth of July last. Grim sarcasm is it not,
that the child of Independence Day should be locked up in a dungeon?"
"The law of the State requires the age of twenty-one years to insure
the validity of such a transaction as that which you contemplate."
"Do you mean that my hands are tied; that if I should live, I can do
nothing for more than two years?"
"Such is the law."
"Then the justice that fled from criminal law, steers equally clear of
the civil code? What curious paradoxes, what subtleties of finesse lurk
in those fine meshes of jurisprudence, ingeniously spread to succor
wary guilt, to tangle and trip the careless feet of innocence! All the
world knows that the dearest wish that warmed General Darrington's
heart was to disinherit and repudiate his daughter, and to secure his
worldly goods to his adopted son; and yet because a sheet of paper
expressing that desire could not be produced in court, the will of the
dead is defied, and the fortune is thrust into the hated hands which
its owner swore should never touch it; hands that the law says murdered
in order to steal. When the child of the disowned and repudiated,
holding sacred the unfortunate man's wishes, refuses to accept the
blood-bought heritage, and attempts to replace the fatal legacy in the
possession of those for whom it was notoriously intended--this Tartufe
of justice strides forward and forbids righteous restitution; postpones
the rendering of 'Caesar's things to Caesar' for two years, in order to
save the condemned the additional pang of regretting the generosity of
her minority! Human wills, intentions and aims, no matter how laudable
and well known, are blandly strangled by judicial red tape, and laid
away with pompous ceremonial in the dusty catacombs of legal form.
Grimly grotesque, this masquerade of equity! Something must be done for
Mr. Darrington, to enable him to finish his studies and embark on the
career his father designed."
"He is a man, and can learn to carve his way unaided."
She sighed wearily, and a troubled look crossed her face; while the
visitor followed with longing eyes the slow motion of her delicate
hand, beautiful as Herses', that softly stroked the cat purring against
her shoulder.
"Surely there is an outlet to this snare. You could help me if you
would."
"I? Do you imagine that after all the injuries I have inflicted on you,
I can consent to help you beggar yourself?"
"You know that I would sooner handle red-hot ploughshares, than touch a
dollar, a cent, of that fortune. It would greatly relieve my mind and
comfort me, if you would indicate some method by which I can convey to
Mr. Darrington that which really belongs to him. Unless he can enjoy
it, it might as well be in the grave now with its former owner. Do help
me."
The pathetic pleading of face and voice almost unnerved him, but he sat
silent.
"Cannot I dispose at least of the income or interest? If a definite
amount should be allowed me each year, during my minority, could I do
as I please with that sum?"
"Certainly you have that right. I may as well tell you, there is one
method of accomplishing your aim, by applying to the Legislature to
legalize your acts by declaring you of age. At present the estate is in
the hands of Mr. Wolverton, whom the Probate Court has appointed
administrator; and at the expiration of eighteen months from the date
of Gen'l Darrington's death, the control of the whole will devolve to
some extent upon you. Meanwhile the administrator will allow you
annually a reasonable amount."
"Do you know what sum Mr. Darrington required while abroad?"
"I am told his allowance was four thousand dollars per annum.
Histology, morphology, and aetiology are whims too costly for
impecunious students. Prince must reduce his stable of hobbies."
"No, he is entitled to canter as many as he likes, and the money could
not be better spent than in promoting the noble work of the advancement
of Science. The problem is solved, and my earthly cares are at an end.
Leave the copy you brought, and ask Mr. Wolverton to see me to-morrow.
He shall write both the will and the deed of gift, which you think can
be made valid, and meanwhile the annual allowance must be paid as
formerly to the son. Whether I live or die, the wishes of the dead will
be respected, and Prince Darrington shall have his own. It is an
intense relief to know that two innocent and happy lives will never
feel the fatal chill of my shadow; and when your sister enters 'Elm
Bluff' as its mistress, the balance-sheet will be complete."
As if some dreaded task had been finally accomplished, she drew a deep
sigh of weariness that was cut short by a spell of coughing.
"There is a Scriptural injunction concerning kindness to enemies, which
amounts to heaping coals of fire on their heads; and to my unregenerate
nature, it savors more of subtile inquisitorial cruelty, than of
Christian charity."
"Your sister is not my enemy, I hope, and need I so rank your sister's
brother? There is one thing more, which even your sarcasm shall not
prevent."
She drew from beneath the cardboard a paper box, placed it on the table
and removed the lid.
"I presume the Sheriff meant kindly when he sent me this as my
property, which having testified to suit the prosecution, was returned
to the burglar in whose possession it was found. The sight of it was as
humiliating as a blow on the cheek. Some gifts are fatal; nevertheless,
you must ascribe no sinister motive to me, when I fulfil that
injunction of Gen'l Darrington's last Will and Testament, which set
apart these sapphires for his son's bride. They are just as I received
them from his hands. My mother, for whom they were intended, never saw
them; I thank God that she wears the eternal jewels that He provides
for the faithful and the pure in heart. I wish you to deliver this
case, and the gold pieces, one hundred dollars, to Mr. Darrington; and
it will be a mercy to rid me of torturing reminders."
She looked at the azure flame leaping from the superb stones, and
pushed the box away with a gesture of loathing.
"Beautifully blue as those weird nebulae in the far, far South; that
brood over the ocean wastes where cyclones are born; but to me and to
mine, the baleful medium of an inherited curse. Having accomplished my
doom, may they bring only benison to your sister."
"I would see adders fastened in her ears and twined around her neck
sooner than those--"
"At least take them out of my sight; give them to Mr. Darrington. They
are maddening reminders of a perished past. Now, to the last iota, I
have made all possible restitution, and the account is squared; for in
exchange for that life, which I am condemned as having taken, my own is
the forfeit. The expiation is complete."
She seemed to have forgotten his presence, as her gaze rested on the
ring she wore, and a happy smile momentarily glorified the pale face.
"Beryl!--"
She started, winced, shivered; and threw up her hand with the haughty
denial he so well remembered.
"Hush! Only my precious dead ever called me so. You must not dare!"
Something she read in the face that leaned toward her, filled her with
vague dread, and despite her efforts, she trembled visibly.
"Mr. Dunbar, I am very weary; tired--oh! how tired, body and soul."
"You dismiss me? Recollect I was warned that this would be the last
interview accorded me, and I beg your indulgence. If you knew all, if
you could imagine one-half the sorrow you have caused me, you would
consider our accounts as satisfactorily balanced as your settlement
with the Darringtons. Whether you have ruined my life, or are destined
to purify and exalt it, remains to be determined. To see you as you
are, is almost beyond my powers of endurance, and for my own sake--mark
you--to ease my own heart, I shall redouble my efforts to have you
liberated. There is one speedy process, the discovery of the man whom,
thus far, you have shielded so effectually; and next week I begin the
hunt in earnest by going West."
He saw her fingers clutch each other, and the artery in her throat
throb quickly.
"How many victims are required to appease the manes of Gen'l
Darrington? Be satisfied with having sacrificed me, and waste no more
time in search that can bring neither recompense to you, nor
consolation to me. If I can bear my fate, you, sir, have no right to
interfere."
"Then, like the selfish man I am, I usurp the right. What damnable
infatuation can bind you to that miserable poltroon, who skulks in
safety, knowing that the penalty of his evil deeds falls on you? One
explanation has suggested itself: it haunts me like a fiend, and only
you can exorcise it. Are you married to that brute, and is it loyalty
that nerves you? For God's sake do not trifle, tell me the truth."
He leaned across the table, caught her hands. She shook off his touch,
and her eyes were ablaze.
"Are you insane? How dare you cherish such a suspicion? The bare
conjecture is an insult, and you must know it is false. Married? I?"
"Forgive me if I wound you, but indeed I could conceive of no other
solution of the mystery of your self-sacrifice; for it is utterly
incredible that unless some indissoluble tie bound you, that cowardly
knave could command your allegiance. It maddens me to think that you,
so far beyond all other women, can tolerate the thought of that--"
"Hush! hush! You conjure phantoms with which to taunt and torture. You
pity me so keenly, that your judgment becomes distorted, and you chase
chimeras. Banish imaginary husbands, Western journeys, even the thought
of my wretched doom, and try henceforth to forget that I ever saw X--."
"What does this mean? It was not on your hand when I held it so long
that day--in my own. Tell me, and quiet my pain."
He pointed to the heavy ring, which was much too large for the wasted
finger where it glistened.
"What does it mean? A tale of woe. It means that when my broken-hearted
mother was dying among strangers, in a hospital, she kissed her wedding
ring, and sent it with her love and blessing to the child--she
idolized. It means--" She held up her waxen hand, and into her voice
stole immeasurable tenderness: "Shall I tell you all it means? This
little gold hoop inscribed inside 'I. B. to E. D.,' girdles all that
this world has left for me; memories of father, mother, sunny childhood
in a peaceful home, lofty ambitions, happy, happy beautiful hopes that
once belonged to the girl Beryl, whom pitiless calamity has broken on
her cruel wheel. Walled up, dying slowly in a convict's tomb, the only
light that shines into my desolate heart, flickers through this little
circle; and clasping it close through the long, long nights, when
horrible images brood like vampires, it soothes me, like the touch of
the dear hand which it graced so long, and brings me dreams of the
fair, sweet past."
Was it the mist in his eyes that showed her almost glorified by the
level rays of the setting sun, as like a tired child she leaned her
head against the wall, a pale image of resignation?
To lose her was a conjecture so fraught with pain, that his swart face
blanched, and his voice quivered under its weight of tender entreaty.
"What is it that sustains you in your frightful martyrdom? Why do you
endure these horrors which might be abolished? You hurl me back upon
the loathsome thought that love, love for a depraved, brutal wretch is
the secret that baffles me. I might be able to see you die, to lay you,
stainless snowdrop that you are, in the coffin that would keep you
sacred forever; but please God! I will never endure the pain of seeing
you leave these sheltering walls to walk into that man's arms. I swear
to you by all I hold most precious, that if he be yet alive, I will
hand him over to retribution."
He had pushed aside the table, and stood before her, with the one
wholly absorbing love of his life glowing in his face. She dared not
meet the gaze that thrilled her with an exquisite happiness, and
involuntarily rose. Had she not strangled the impulse, her fluttering
heart would have prompted her to lean forward, rest her head against
his arm, and tell him all; but close as they stood, and realizing that
she reigned supreme in his affection, one seemed to rise reproachfully
between them; that generous, gentle woman to whom his faith was
pledged. No matter at what cost, she must guard Leo's peace of mind;
and to dispel his jealous illusion now, would speedily overwhelm the
tottering fabric of his allegiance. Folding her arms tightly across her
breast, she answered proudly:
"So be it then. Do your worst."
"You admit it!"
"I admit nothing."
"You defy me?"
"Defy? It seems I am always at the mercy of Tiberius."
"Can you look at me, and deny that you are screening your lover?"
She quickly lifted her head, with a peculiar haughty movement that
reminded him of a desperate stag at bay, and he never forgot the
expression of her eyes.
"I deny that Miss Gordon's accepted lover has any right to catechise me
concerning a subject which, were his suspicions correct, should invest
it with a sanctity inviolable by wanton curiosity."
He recoiled slightly as from a lash.
"Miss Gordon is on the eve of sailing through the sunny isles of
Greece; and while she is absent I purpose finding my nepenthe in my
hunt for murderers among Montana wilds. You have defied me, and I will
do my worst, nay, my very best to catch and hang that cowardly rogue
who adroitly used your handkerchief as the instrument to aid his crime."
She walked a few steps, putting once more between them the table,
against which she leaned.
"If you are successful, and the mystery of that awful murder should be
unravelled, you will then comprehend something of the desperation that
makes me endure even this crucifixion of soul; and in that day, when
you discover the fugitive lover, you will blush for the taunts aimed at
a defenceless and sorely-stricken woman."
"Nevertheless, I bend my energies henceforth to his capture and
punishment."
"Because he is my lover? Or because he may be a criminal? Ask that
question of your honor. Answer it to your own conscience, and to the
noble heart of the trusting woman you asked to become your wife. Mr.
Dunbar, you must leave me now; my strength is almost spent."
Baffled, exasperated, he approached the table and took something from
his vest-pocket.
"I hold my honor flawless, and with the sanction of my conscience I
prefer to answer to you--you alone--because he is your lover, I will
have his life."
She smiled, and her eyes drooped; but there was strange emphasis in her
words as she clasped her hands:
"God keep my lover now and forever. Mr. Dunbar, when you discover him,
I have no fear that you will harm one hair in his dear head."
"If you knew all you have cost me, you might understand why I will
never forego my compensation. I bide my time; but I shall win. You
asked me, as a special favor, to preserve and secure for you something
which you held very valuable. Because no wish of yours can ever be
forgotten, I have complied with your request and brought you this
'precious souvenir' of a tender past."
He tore away the paper wrapping, and held toward her the meerschaum
pipe, then dropped it on the table as though it burned his fingers.
At sight of it, a sudden faintness made the girl reel, and she put her
hand to her throat, as if to loosen a throttling touch. Her eyes
filled, and in a whirling mist she seemed to see the beloved face of
the father long dead, of the gay, beautiful young brother who had
wrought her ruin. Weakness overpowered her, and sinking to her knees,
she drew the pipe closer, laid it against her cheek, folded her arms
over it on the table and bowed her head.
What a host of mocking phantoms leaped through the portals of the
Bygone--babbling of the glorious golden dawn that was whitening into a
radiant morning, when the day-star fell back below the horizon, and
night devoured the new-born day. Memory comes, sometimes, in the guise
of an angel, wearing fragrant chaplets, singing us the perfect
harmonies of a hallowed past; but oftener still, as a fury scourging
with serpents; and always over her shoulder peers the wan face and
pitying eyes of a divine Regret.
The sun had gone down behind the dense pine forest stretching beyond
the prison, but the sky was a vast shifting flame of waning rose and
deepening scarlet, and the glow from the West still defied the shadows
gathering in the cell. Beryl was so still, that Mr. Dunbar feared she
had fainted from exhaustion.
He stepped to her side, and laid his hand on the bronzed head,
smoothing caressingly yet reverently the short, silky hair. Ah, the
unfathomable tenderness with which he bent over the only woman he ever
loved; the intolerable pain of the thought that after all he might lose
her. He heard the shuddering sob that broke from her overtaxed and
aching heart, and despite his jealous rage he felt unmanned. When she
raised her face, tears hung on her lashes.
"I will thank you, Mr. Dunbar, as long as I live, for this last and
greatest kindness. If I could tell you what this precious relic
represents to me, oh, if you knew! you would pity me indeed."
"Tell me. Trust me. God knows I would never betray your confidence, no
matter what it cost me."
It was a powerful temptation to divulge the truth, and her heart
whispered that Bertie's safety would be secured by removing all jealous
incentive to his pursuit; but she remembered the fair, sweet, heroic
woman who had dared her fiance's wrath in order to unbar those prison
doors; who had faithfully and delicately thrown over the convict the
mantle of her friendship; and the loyal soul of the prisoner strangled
its weakness.
Perishing in the desert where scorching sands stifled her, she had
surrendered to death, when love sprang to her side, lifted her into the
heavenly peace of dewy palms, and held to parched lips the sparkling
draught a glimpse of which electrified her. Would starvation entitle
her to drink? Over the head of pleading love stretched the arm of
stony-eyed duty, striking into the dust the crystal drops, withering
the palms; and following her stern beckon, the thirsty pilgrim re-trod
the sands of surrender, more intolerable than before, because the oasis
was still in sight. Duty! Rugged incorruptible Spartan dame, whose
inflexible mandate is ever: "With your shield, or on it."
Beryl put up her hand, drew his from her head to her lips, kissed it
softly.
"Good-bye, Mr. Dunbar. I promise you one thing. If I find I cannot
live, I will send for you. Upon the border of the grave I will open my
heart. You shall see all; and then you will understand, and deliver a
message which I must leave in your hands. Give my grateful remembrance
to Miss Gordon. Make her happy; and ask her to pray for me, that I may
be patient. Now leave me, for I can bear no more."
She put aside his hand, and hid her face once more. He stooped, laid
his lips on the shining hair, and walked away. At the door he paused.
The long corridor was very dim and gloomy, and the deep-toned bell in
the tower was ringing slowly. Looking back into the cell, he saw that
Beryl had risen, and against the sullen red glow on the western window,
her face and figure outlined a silhouette of hopeless desolation.