_A Curse._--_Plans of Revenge._
As Nat strode onward to his home, after leaving his companions, his
mind was in a chaotic state of excitement and rage. He was still
smarting from the blows he had received, and the blood was flowing
from his nostrils and lips. He paid no heed to this, however, for
there was murder in his heart, and already his plans of revenge were
being formed--plans which fiends incarnate might well shrink from,
and from the execution of which even demoniac natures would have
recoiled in horror.
As he walked on, the dark, lowering clouds that had been gathering
overhead, broke into a terrific storm of rain; the wind whistled and
howled through the valleys, and from the mountain gorges the
lightning flashed with a vividness almost appalling; but, undismayed
by the storm and the tempest, which seemed at that time to accord
with the emotions of his own wicked heart, Nat continued on his way,
which lay past the unpretending, but comfortable farm-house, where,
in the peace and contentment of a happy home, Henry Schulte dwelt
with his parents.
As he reached a point in the road opposite the dwelling of his hated
rival, and from the windows of which the lights were gleaming
cheerily, Nat stopped, and, unmindful of the drenching rain, he shook
his uplifted hand at the inoffensive abode, and, in a voice choking
with rage, cried:
"Curse you, Henry Schulte! Be on your guard, for if I live, you will
know what it is to suffer for what you have done this night. Enjoy
yourself and your victory while you can, but there will come a time
when you would rather be dead than the miserable thing I will make
you. Curse you! Curse you!"
Having relieved the exuberance of his passion in this manner, he
silently resumed his journey, and reaching his home retired at once
to his room, and throwing himself upon the bed, he gave himself up to
the devilish meditations which filled his mind.
Ah, Nat Toner, far better for you, for that happy village of Hagen,
and for the future happiness of two loving hearts, if to-night the
lightning's flash had sent its deadly stroke through your murderous
heart and laid you lifeless upon the road.
As may be imagined, the news of the encounter between Henry Schulte
and Nat Toner was noised about the village, and during the next day
the matter became the universal theme of conversation. It was
astonishing, however, to remark the unanimity of opinion which
prevailed with regard to it. The entire community with one accord
united in condemning the insult and applauding its resentment; and
when Nat Toner made his appearance the following day, bearing upon
his face the marks of the punishment he had received, he was greeted
with cold salutations and marked evidence of avoidance by those who
heretofore had been disposed to be friendly, and even gracious.
This only intensified his anger at the cause of his humiliation, but
he concealed his emotions and shortly afterwards returned to his
home.
The anxiety of Emerence for the safety of her lover was most
profound, and trembling with fear of the threatened revenge of Nat
Toner, for his oath had also been repeated, she besought Henry to be
watchful and cautious of his unscrupulous adversary, all of which he
laughingly and assuringly promised to do. Not so much for his own
security, of which he had no fear, as for the sake of the dear girl
who was so solicitous for his welfare, and to whom his safety was a
matter of so much importance.
The next few days passed uneventfully away, Nat remaining at home,
nursing his wrath and the wounds upon his face, and Henry Schulte
attending to his various duties upon the farm. The quarrel finally
ceased to be a matter of remark, and the simple-minded villagers,
believing that Nat's threats were only the utterances of a man crazed
with drink, and smarting under the punishment he had received,
quieted their fears and resumed their ordinary peaceful and contented
mode of living.
To Nat Toner the days passed all too slowly, but with the
slowly-moving hours, in the seclusion of his own home, and his own
evil thoughts, his revenge became the one object of his life. His
reckless, vagabond existence of the past few years, during which it
was hinted by several of the villagers, with many shrugs of their
shoulders and wise noddings of their venerable heads, he had been
engaged in the service of a bold and successful French smuggler, had
not tended to elevate his mind, or to humanize his disposition. His
depraved nature and vicious habits were roused into full action by
this encounter with Henry Schulte, and the anger of his heart was in
no wise lessened, as he reflected that he had brought his injuries
upon himself. All the brutal instincts of his degraded disposition
were aflame, and he resolved that his revenge for the indignities
that had been put upon him, should be full and complete.
With a fiendish malignity he determined to strike at the heart of his
antagonist through the person of the object of his love, and by that
means to be revenged upon both.