AFTER THE CRIME.
Sophie Nutter could hardly believe the evidence of her own startled
eyes when she saw the terrible crime of her young mistress.
She knew that Roma was selfish and cruel, but she had never realized
that such depths of wickedness were concealed beneath her beautiful
exterior.
When she saw Roma push the supposed Jesse Devereaux over the face of
the cliff to a dreadful death, the hair seemed to rise on her head with
horror, and from her lips burst an uncontrollable shriek of dismay and
remonstrance, while she tried to spring forward with outstretched arms
in a futile impulse to avert the man's awful fate.
Too late! The writhing, struggling body went hurtling down over the
high cliff, and struck the water with a loud thud that dashed the
spray high in air. Then Sophie's limbs relaxed beneath her, and she
fell in a heap like one paralyzed, behind the ledge of stones, while
her terrified shriek went wandering forth on the air of night like a
wailing banshee.
But Roma had shrieked, wildly, too--perhaps in nature's recoil from
her own sin--so Sophie's protesting cry lost itself in dismal echoes.
Then all grew still save for the voice of the sea and the dash of water
churning itself to fury at the foot of the bluff.
The maid, crouching low in her concealment, heard Roma flying with
terror-haunted footsteps from the scene of her awful crime, and
muttered distractedly:
"She has murdered her handsome lover, the beautiful fiend! God in
heaven alone knows why! I thought she loved the very ground he trod on!"
The maid was suffering from severe nervous shock. She sobbed
hysterically as she thought of handsome Jesse Devereaux lying drowned
at the foot of the cliff, and beaten by the cruel waves that would
wash him out to sea when the tide turned, so that Roma's sin would be
forever hidden from the sight of men.
"I will go and inform on her at once! She shall suffer the penalty!"
she vowed at first; but when she thought of gentle, loving Mrs. Clarke
her resolution wavered.
"It will kill her to learn of her child's wickedness, the good, gentle
lady who has been so kind and generous to me! I do not know what to
do! I would like to punish the daughter, and spare the mother, but I
cannot do both," she groaned, in a state of miserable indecision.
It was some time before her trembling limbs permitted her to drag
herself from the spot; and when she gained the house and her bed she
could not rest. She tossed and groaned, and at length was seized with
hysterical spasms, obliging the housemaid to call for assistance.
In the meantime Roma, far less excited than Sophie, had also retired to
her room and flung herself down by the open window to await impatiently
the inevitable good-night chat with her mother.
"I wish she would not come. Her affection grows really tiresome at
times," she muttered rebelliously, as she heard the light footsteps
outside her door.
Mrs. Clarke entered and sat down close to her daughter, putting her
white hand tenderly on the girl's shoulder.
"Good girl, to come in when mamma sent for you," she said caressingly,
as to a child.
"You--sent--for--me!" Roma faltered, in surprise.
"Yes, by Sophie. I feared you would take cold, bareheaded out in the
night air."
"I have not seen Sophie," Roma muttered sullenly, with a downcast face.
"Why did Jesse leave so soon?" continued the mother curiously.
"He did not come. I have been walking in the grounds alone."
"But your papa said, dear----"
"Yes, I know; papa told you I was waiting for Jesse at the gate, but he
never came. He disappointed me!"
"Why, that is very strange, dear. And you are grieved over it, I see.
Your face is pale, and your whole frame trembles under my touch. Do not
take it so hard, darling. Of course Jesse was detained. He will come
to-morrow."
"He should have sent me an excuse, mamma!"
"He must have been prevented. I am sure he would not neglect you
purposely. He will explain to-morrow."
Roma tossed her proud head, with a bitter laugh.
"I tell you, mamma, I will not brook such negligence. I have broken our
engagement."
"Roma!"
The girl gave a reckless laugh of wounded pride.
"Yes; I sent him a note, with his ring, just now, setting him free."
"You were precipitate, Roma; you should have waited for an explanation."
"I did not choose to wait!"
"I fear you will regret it."
"I do not think it likely."
Mrs. Clarke gazed at her in sorrowful silence, whose reproach goaded
Roma into adding haughtily:
"I wished to teach Jesse, early, a lesson that I am not to be neglected
for anything; that I must be foremost always in his thoughts."
"But have you not gone too far in giving him this lesson? His thoughts
will not belong to you now."
"He will bring back his ring, and beg me to take it back to-morrow."
"Are you certain, Roma?"
"As sure as I am of my life!" with a confident laugh.
"Well, perhaps you know him better than I do, Roma, but I fancied Jesse
Devereaux very high-spirited--too high-spirited to bear dictation."
"He will have to bend to my will!" Roma cried arrogantly, and the
gentle lady sighed, for she knew that her daughter made this her own
motto in life. Power and dominion were hers by the force of "might
makes right."
Mrs. Clarke rose with a sigh and touched Roma's cheeks with her lips,
saying kindly:
"Well, I hope it will all come right, dear. Good night."
She returned to her own room, thinking: "Poor girl, she is the
miserable victim of her own caprice. I could see that she is too
terribly agitated to sleep an hour to-night."