THE EMPTY PISTOL-CASE.
Diamond Island was deserted. Old Sam and Celia were once more left
alone. The wounded man had been taken home. There was no reason now why
Bertha should remain in that lonely place, so she became a guest at the
Fletcher mansion, and after much solicitation from Mrs. Forbes, Clara
Anderson went there also, with Lydia of course.
But unrest and lingering anxieties followed them all. The gentlemen were
grave and kept much alone together. This made the ladies thoughtful, and
vague apprehensions haunted them, without seeming cause; for they were
ignorant of that cruel poem which was so often a subject of conversation
between the husband and brothers.
But the greatest change of all was with Lydia. Every day the girl became
more strangely silent and hollow-eyed. She was devoted in her attentions
to Bertha, and every night would hang around her bed in silent
watchfulness, as if she longed to say something which her heart refused
to give up. She haunted Clara Anderson with the same affectionate
unrest. At daylight she would be at her post again, still silent and
strangely gentle.
When either of the young ladies noticed this, Lydia would answer with a
pathetic smile, that she was not very well, and had a constant pain in
her chest; but Aunt Celia was doctoring her up with herbs. That was why
she went down to the island every day, and remained there so long.
Thus things went on till a company of negroes from Willow Bend came down
to the island, to clear up the grounds and plant rude tables for the
grand barbecue, which was to celebrate the marriage of Waldon with Mr.
Noel’s heiress.
Lydia was there at the time, and asked them many questions. They
informed her that the York gentleman had brought the young mistress
home, for a week or two, just to give the darkies an old-fashioned
Virginia breakdown. Mr. Noel had gone out to sea, and couldn’t be
present, but the young couple were coming to the island, sure. So was
Mr. Hyde, with ever so much company from New York and Richmond. Of
course Mr. Fletcher’s people would get invitations. Perhaps she might be
among them.
All this Lydia heard from the men themselves, or from Sam, who talked
incessantly while rowing her ashore.
In due time the invitations came to the servants on Fletcher’s
plantation, including Lydia. Perhaps Waldon, who had arrived, knew
nothing of this, for the colored committee of Willow Bend had a certain
number of invitations, and sent them independently.
Fletcher, who was busy with more important thoughts, ignored the whole
affair; but his people, true as steel to the old family loyalty, one and
all, refused to join a celebration given by the master’s open foe.
Lydia alone reserved her decision.
The night before this celebration was to come off, Mr. Forbes and his
brother-in-law, young Lane, were shut up for an hour or more in Forbes’
private room, with the door locked and the blinds closed.
During this time, Lydia was walking up and down on the veranda
unnoticed, for there was no moon, and the night was cloudy and dark.
Besides, the girl moved stealthily, like a cat, and turned the bars of
that window-blind with such slow caution that the men deliberating
together had no idea that they were observed.
The sash within the blinds was up, and Lydia could hear as well as see.
A pistol-case was open on the table, and the gentlemen were looking at
each other in blank surprise.
“The case is here, but the pistols must have been left on the island,”
said Lane, closing the lid with an impatient movement. “I’m afraid that
man has gained another day upon us. Their jollification comes off
to-morrow. I would not have any of Fletcher’s people seen within a mile
of the place; besides, I don’t think one of them would go, even to obey
my orders. We must wait till this is over. Hand the letter this way. We
shall know where to find it.”
Forbes took up a letter, folded in its envelope, but unsealed, and
reached it across the table.
Lane placed it in a drawer, and was about to turn the key, when a shower
of light knocks came rattling upon the door, and he started up,
motioning Forbes to put away the pistol-case.
“What on earth are you both about?” cried Mrs. Forbes, gathering up the
silk of her long train, as she swept into the room. “Talking, and
without cigars, too! while here are a poor forsaken wife and lady-love
pining for company. Why, how guilty you look! Bertha—Clara Anderson,
what have these two wretches been about?”
“Hatching treason against you both, of course,” said Forbes, turning
from the cabinet where he had locked up the pistol-case. “But we are
detected; so arrest us, and let our prison be the little back
drawing-room, where you can torture your wretched captives with music,
if such cruelty is possible to the female heart.”
“March on in front, then,” laughed Mrs. Forbes, stamping her foot.
The two men obeyed her.
The moment they were gone, Lydia threw open the blinds, leaped into the
room, and had that letter in her hands.
It was a challenge from Edward Lane to Russell Waldon! The young man had
determined that the next encounter should be his; and, unknown to
Fletcher—who was worse—had taken the affair into his own hands.