THE STRUGGLE ENDED.
In the meantime Jacquelina had reached home sooner than she had
expected. It was just dark, and the rain was beginning to fall as she
sprang from the carriage and darted into the house.
Mrs. Waugh met her in the hall, took her hand, and said:
"Oh, my dear Lapwing! I'm so glad you have come back, bad as the weather
is; for indeed the professor gives me a great deal of anxiety, and if
you had stayed away to-night I could not have been answerable for the
consequences. There, now; hurry up-stairs and change your dress, and
come down to tea. It is all ready, and we have a pair of canvasback
ducks roasted."
"Very well, aunty! But--is Grim in the house?"
"I don't know, my love. You hurry."
Jacquelina tripped up the stairs to her own room, which she found
lighted, warmed, and attended by her maid, Maria. She took off her
bonnet and mantle, and laid them aside, and began to smooth her hair,
dancing all the time, and quivering with suppressed laughter in
anticipation of her "fun." When she had arranged her dress, she went
down-stairs and passed into the dining-room, where the supper table was
set.
"See if Nace Grimshaw is in his room, and if he is not, we will wait no
longer!" said the hungry commodore, thumping his heavy stick down upon
the floor.
Festus sprang to do his bidding, and after an absence of a few minutes
returned with the information that the professor was not there.
Jacquelina shrugged her shoulders, and shook with inward laughter.
They all sat down, and amid the commodore's growls at Grim's irregular
hours, and Jacquelina's shrugs and smiles and sidelong glances and
ill-repressed laughter, the meal passed. And when it was over, the
commodore, leaning on Mrs. Waugh's arm, went to his own particular sofa
in the back parlor; Mrs. L'Oiseau remained, to superintend the clearing
away of the supper-table; and Jacquelina danced on to the front parlor,
where she found no one but the maid, who was mending the fire.
"Say! did you see anything of the professor while I was gone?" she
inquired.
"Lors, honey, I wish I hadn't! I knows how de thought of it will give me
'liriums nex' time I has a fever."
"Why? What did he do? When was it?"
"Why, chile, jes afore sundown, as I was a carryin' an armful of wood
up-stairs, for Miss Mary's room, I meets de 'fessor a comin' down. I
like to 'a' screamed! I like to 'a' let de wood drap! I like to 'a'
drapped right down myself! It made my heart beat in de back o' my
head--he look so awful, horrid gashly! Arter speakin' in a voice hollow
as an empty coffin, an' skeerin' me out'n my seventeen sensibles axin
arter you, he jes tuk hisself off summers, an' I ain't seen him sence."
"What did he ask you? What did you tell him?"
"He jes ax where you was. I telled him how you were gone home 'long o'
Miss Marian; he ax when you were comin' back; I telled him I believed
not till to-morrow mornin'; then his face turned all sorts of awful dark
colors, an' seemed like it crushed right in, an' he nodded and said
'Ah!' but it sounded jes like a hollow groan; and he tuk hisself off,
and I ain't seen him sence."
The elf danced about the room, unable to restrain her glee. And the
longer Dr. Grimshaw remained away, the more excited she grew. She
skipped about like the very sprite of mischief, exclaiming to herself:
"Oh, shan't we have fun presently! Oh, shan't we, though! The Grim
maniac! he has gone to detect me! And he'll break in upon Thurston and
Marian's interview. Won't there be an explosion! Oh, Jupiter! Oh, Puck!
Oh, Mercury! What fun--what delicious fun! Wr-r-r-r! I can scarcely
contain myself! Begone, Maria! Vanish! I want all the space in this room
to myself! Oh, fun alive! What a row there'll be! Me-thinks I hear the
din of battle!
"Oh clanga a rang! a rang! clang! clash! Whoop!"
sang the elf, springing and dancing, and spinning, and whirling, around
and around the room in the very ecstasy of mischief. Her dance was
brought to a sudden and an awful close.
The hall door was thrown violently open, hurried and irregular steps
were heard approaching, the parlor door was pushed open, and Dr.
Grimshaw staggered forward and paused before her!
Yes; her frolic was brought to an eternal end. She saw at a glance that
something fatal, irreparable, had happened. There was blood upon his
hands and wrist-bands! Oh, more--far more! There was the unmistakable
mark of Cain upon his writhen brow! Before now she had seen him look
pale and wild and haggard, and had known neither fear nor pity for him.
But now! An exhumed corpse galvanized into a horrid semblance of life
might look as he did--with just such sunken cheeks and ashen lips and
frozen eyes; with just such a collapsed and shuddering form; yet,
withal, could not have shown that terrific look of utter, incurable
despair! His fingers, talon-like in their horny paleness and rigidity,
clutched his breast, as if to tear some mortal anguish thence, and his
glassy eyes were fixed in unutterable reproach upon her face! Thrice he
essayed to speak, but a gurgling noise in his throat was the only
result. With a last great effort to articulate, the blood suddenly
filled his throat and gushed from his mouth! For a moment he sought to
stay the hemorrhage by pressing a handkerchief to his lips; but soon his
hand dropped powerless to his side; he reeled and fell upon the floor!
Jacquelina gazed in horror on her work.
And then her screams of terror filled the house!
The family came rushing in. Foremost entered the commodore, shaking his
stick in a towering passion, and exclaiming at the top of his voice:
"What the devil is all this? What's broke loose now? What are you
raising all this row for, you infernal little hurricane?"
"Oh, uncle! aunty! mother! look--look!" exclaimed Jacquelina, wringing
her pale fingers, and pointing to the fallen man.
The sight arrested all eyes.
The miserable man lay over on his side, ghastly pale, and breathing
laboriously, every breath pumping out the life-blood, that had made a
little pool beside his face.
Mrs. Waugh and Mary L'Oiseau hastened to stoop and raise the sufferer.
The commodore drew near, half stupefied, as he always was in a crisis.
"What--what--what's all this? Who did it? How did it happen?" he asked,
with a look of dull amazement.
"Give me a sofa cushion, Maria, to place under his head. Mary L'Oiseau,
hurry as fast as you can, and send a boy for Dr. Brightwell; tell him to
take the swiftest horse in the stable, and ride for life and death, and
bring the physician instantly, for Dr. Grimshaw is dying! Hurry!"
"Dying? Eh! what did you say, Henrietta?" inquired the commodore, in a
sort of stupid, blind anxiety; for he was unable to comprehend what had
happened.
"Speak to me, Henrietta! What is the matter? What ails Grim?"
"He has ruptured an artery," said Mrs. Waugh, gravely, as she laid the
sufferer gently back upon the carpet and placed the sofa pillow under
his head.
"Ruptured an artery? How did it happen? Grim! Nace! speak to me! How do
you feel? Oh, Heaven! he doesn't speak--he doesn't hear me! Oh,
Henrietta! he is very ill--he is very ill! He must be put to bed at
once, and the doctor sent for! Come here, Maria! Help me to lift your
young master," said the old man, waking up to anxiety.
"Stay! The doctor has been sent for; but he must not be moved; it would
be fatal to him. Indeed, I fear that he is beyond human help," said
Henrietta, as she wiped the gushing stream from the lips of the dying
man.
"Beyond human help! Eh! what? Nace! No! no! no! no! It can't be!" said
the old man, kneeling down, and bending over him in helpless trouble.
"Attend Dr. Grimshaw, while I hurry out and see what can be done,
Mary," said Mrs. Waugh, resigning her charge, and then hastening from
the room. She soon returned, bringing with her such remedies as her
limited knowledge suggested. And she and Mary L'Oiseau applied them; but
in vain! Every effort for his relief seemed but to hasten his death. The
hemorrhage was subsiding; so also was his breath. "It is too late; he is
dying!" said Henrietta, solemnly.
"Dying! No, no, Nace! Nace! speak to me! Nace! you're not dying! I've
lost more blood than that in my time! Nace! Nace! speak to your
old--speak, Nace!" cried the commodore, stooping down and raising the
sufferer in his arms, and gazing, half wildly, half stupidly, at the
congealing face.
He continued thus for some moments, until Mrs. Waugh, putting her hand
upon his shoulder, said gravely and kindly:
"Lay him down, Commodore Waugh; he is gone."
"Gone! gone!" echoed the old man, in his imbecile distraction, and
dropped his gray head upon the corpse, and groaned aloud.
Mrs. Waugh came and laid her hand affectionately on his shoulder. He
looked up in such hopeless, helpless trouble, and cried out:
"Oh, Henrietta! he was my son--my only, only son! My poor, unowned boy!
Oh, Henrietta! is he dead? Are you sure? Is he quite gone?"
"He is gone, Commodore Waugh; lay him down; come away to your room,"
said Henrietta, gently taking his hand.
Jacquelina, white with horror, was kneeling with clasped hands and
dilated eyes, gazing at the ruin. The old man's glance fell upon her
there, and his passion changed from grief to fury. Fiercely he broke
forth:
"It was you! You are the murderess--you! Heaven's vengeance light upon
you!"
"Oh, I never meant it! I never meant it! I am very wretched! I wish I'd
never been born!" cried Jacquelina, wringing her pale fingers.
"Out of my sight, you curse! Out of my sight--and may Heaven's wrath
pursue you!" thundered the commodore, shaking with grief and rage.