‘Why,’ returned Blodget, ‘in the first p_The Mysteries and Miseries of San Francisco Showing up all the various characters and notabilities, (both in high and low life) that have figured in San Franciso since its settlement.

attended with fatal consequences to her; and in the next, I think it

would be better to break it out to her by degrees, and make the

circumstance subservient to my designs upon her.’

‘That is my opinion,’ remarked Jenkins, ‘but you are a fool, Blodget, to

delay the indulgence of your desires so long, when you have it in your

power to gratify them immediately. If you wait until you prevail upon

the lady to consent, I think you will be likely to tarry a long while.’

‘That is your opinion?’

‘It is.’

‘Mine is a different one.’

‘You must have a very high opinion of your powers of captivation, if

that is really your belief,’ returned Jenkins.

‘Perhaps so,’ said Blodget, ‘but time will show; and now that I have the

prospect of getting this fellow into my power, I am the more disposed to

wait patiently and give my plans a fair trial.’

‘And wait until de Castro or his friends discover the retreat of the

lady, force her from your power, and bring you to punishment,’ rejoined

Jenkins.

‘If Gordon is successful, there will be no fear of that.’

‘Maybe so; but you remember the old proverb—“a bird in hand is worth two

in the bush.”’

‘At any rate, I have made up my mind to run the chance of it.’

‘Well, of course, you are at liberty to do as you think proper,’

observed the captain; ‘but if you succeed in getting this youngster in

our power, where do you think of placing him?’

‘Know you of any person that can be trusted with him?’

‘I do.’

‘And does he reside far from this place?’

‘Close upon the spot.’

‘Is the place obscure?’

‘It is little frequented.’

‘And who is he?’

‘One of my gang; you may depend upon him.’

‘’Tis well; and you think he will accept of the charge?’

‘I am certain of it; he would do it gladly.’

‘Perhaps you will see him and make the proposal; it would come better

from your lips than mine.’

‘I will do so.’

‘You have my thanks, captain.’

‘’Pshaw! I don’t want them. But, mark now, he must be well paid for his

trouble, and keeping the secret.’

‘I have no objection to that.’

‘This will be an expensive job for you.’

‘Were it to cost me twenty times as much, I would not begrudge it to

gratify my revenge.’

‘You are a most implacable foe.’

‘So my enemies have good reason to say.’

‘But come, there is no necessity for delay; have the letter written and

forwarded to Gordon as quickly as possible.’

‘It shall be done.’

‘In the meantime I will go down to Kitson, and make the proposal to

him.’

‘Ay, do; and do not be afraid to promise a most liberal remuneration.’

‘I will do so, depend upon it.’

‘And when do you propose starting on this expedition?’

‘By the night after to-morrow, at the latest.’

‘Your promptitude pleases me.’

‘Delay is dangerous; that is always my motto.’

‘And a very good one; I will adopt it on this occasion; farewell.’

‘Good night; although I shall probably see you again.’

‘Well do, if you can, for I shall be anxious to know whether or not this

Kitson, as you call him, will undertake this charge.’

‘Oh, there is very little doubt but that he will do so.’

Having arrived at the conclusion of this brief colloquy, the two

worthies separated, and Blodget bent his way to the ranch, to write the

letter to Gordon; elated at the prospect of the success of his

diabolical stratagems, and determined at any expense or danger to

prosecute them.

In the epistle he gave Gordon all the information he could require, and

highly praised his indefatigability, at the same time encouraging him to

further exertions, by the promise of rewarding him accordingly.

The letter was immediately forwarded to the proper quarter, and had not

long done so, when Jenkins returned.

‘Well, captain, how have you succeeded?’ asked Blodget.

‘As I anticipated.’

‘Then the man is willing.’

‘He is.’

‘And think you we may depend upon his secrecy?’

‘There is no fear of that!’

‘Did you not bind him by an oath?’

‘There was no necessity for that! Kitson’s word is his bond.’

‘And did you make him acquainted with the particulars?’

‘I was compelled to, to enable him to be more upon his guard.’

‘Ay, true! And you mentioned the reward?’

‘It is not so much as I anticipated.’

‘What is it?’

‘He demands two hundred dollars.’

‘It shall be his freely, immediately the fellow is placed in his care,

one hundred more to that, if he well perform his task, and keeps the

secret inviolable.’

‘I tell you again, there is no fear of his not doing that.’

‘Then all, so far is well,’ observed Blodget.

‘It shall be so; and now we will have a glass or two together, to drink

success to this undertaking.’

‘With all my heart,’ replied the captain; and taking his seat, bottles

were immediately placed upon the table, and they proceeded to drink with

much alacrity, toast after toast following each other in rapid

succession, while the deep potations which they quaffed, took but a

trifling effect upon them, so accustomed were they to habits of

intemperance.

‘Perhaps,’ said Blodget, after a pause, ‘it would have been much more

satisfactory had Gordon succeeded in despatching him.’

‘I like not the unnecessary shedding of human blood.’

‘Then you have never felt the sentiments that I do.’

‘You know not that; but, villain as I am, and have been from a boy, I

never yet shed the blood of my fellow man, unless it was in a fight and

in self defence.’

‘And yet you would have insisted up on one of your fellows committing

murder, had not Gordon undertaken to do it.’

‘Because I had pledged my word to you that it should be done, and

nothing would have induced me to break it.’

‘Ha! ha! ha!’ laughed out Blodget; ‘there’s honor for you, in the

captain of a desperate gang of robbers.’

‘Ay you may mock me, if you think proper, but I have spoken the truth.’

Blodget made no further observation, but walked away, and Jenkins

rejoined his companions at their rendezvous.

In the meantime Inez’ situation was just as helpless as ever, and

Blodget daily continued to annoy her with importunities, and hourly

became more bold and confident in his manners towards her, and she

noticed it, and could not help thinking that something had happened to

occasion this alteration in his behavior, and at times her mind felt

some severe misgivings, which she found it impossible to comprehend.

Blodget had not, however, yet mentioned anything, and, therefore, she

could not entertain any positive suspicion.

So well secured was every place, that our heroine had long ago given up

all idea of escaping, and rested her only hope of deliverance upon her

friends discovering her place of confinement; but a circumstance, a

short time after this, happened, which gave her some reason to hope.

Notwithstanding the utter disgust which our heroine ever evinced in the

company of the old woman, she persisted in obtruding her society upon

her at every opportunity, and, as we have before stated, it was very

evident that she felt a pleasure in making Inez miserable. Guilt is

always envious of the virtues it never possessed, and feels a delight in

evincing its hatred of its possessor in every possible way. This,

however, she concealed from Blodget, well aware that he would not

approve of it, and Inez considered it too contemptible to take any

notice of it, and if she had, she would not have troubled herself to

mention it to her persecutor, who might feel little disposed to trouble

himself in the matter.

The woman would make any excuse to be in the same room with our heroine,

and when she was tired of talking to her, Inez seldom condescending her

a reply, she would sing portions of vulgar songs, in a manner which

would have done honor to Sydney Valley in its darkest days. The mind of

Inez, however, was so fully occupied with her own thoughts that she

seldom paid any attention to her, and not unfrequently was she almost

entirely unconscious of her presence.

It was one evening, a short time after the events which we have been

recording had taken place, that the hag paid our heroine her accustomed

and unwelcome visit, and, as soon as she entered the room, Inez could

perceive that she had been drinking and was quite intoxicated. This

circumstance rather alarmed her, for she was afraid that the old woman

being thus excited, might be guilty of some excesses; but still she

reflected, she had nothing to apprehend from her, as the persons who

were in the ranch would be sure to come to her aid, and thus she was in

safety. But to be alone, and in the power of wretches who cared not what

crime they committed, was sufficient of itself to fill her mind with

terror, and she had great difficulty in supporting her feelings.

The old woman staggered to a seat, for she could scarcely stand, and

having dropped into it, she raised her blood-shot eyes towards the

countenance of our heroine, and fixed upon her a look expressive of her

usual malevolence. Inez averted her head, and, taking up a book,

pretended to be reading; but the old woman was not to be diverted that

way, and, after several ineffectual attempts to speak, she stammered

out—

‘They are all gone out but one man, and he has fallen asleep by the

fire, and so I thought I would come up stairs and keep you company, you

are fond of my company, I know.’

This speech was accompanied by sundry hiccups, and the disgusting old

woman rolled about in the chair apparently in the most uncomfortable

manner. Inez trembled, but she endeavored to conceal her fears as much

as possible, and pretended to be continuing to read the book she held in

her hand, and did not make any reply.

‘Mr. Blodget is a very foolish man,’ continued the old woman—‘he is a

very foolish man, or he would not stand shilly-shallying and

dilly-dallying with you, my fine lady, in the manner he has. Such

squeamish minxes, indeed; poh!’

We need not attempt to describe the feelings of our heroine, while the

old woman was thus proceeding; she endeavored to close her ears to the

words she was giving utterance to, but in vain, and the disgust which

she felt was most unbounded.

‘Why don’t you answer me?’ demanded the beldame in a surly tone; ‘I

suppose you think yourself above me, don’t you? But I can tell you you

are not. You are a prisoner, but I am not, and—’

A very long yawn stopped the old woman’s tirade, and her head dropped

upon the table. She muttered two or three incoherent words, and shortly

afterwards her loud snoring convinced our heroine that the effects of

the liquor she had been drinking had overpowered her, and that she had

fallen off to sleep.

Inez laid down her book; a sudden thought darted across her mind, and

her heart palpitated with emotion. She remembered what the woman had

said about there being but one man in the house, and that he was asleep

below.—The room door was open—the old woman slept soundly, and she was

not likely to be awakened easily—a famous opportunity presented itself

for her to attempt to make her escape. The chance was worth encountering

any danger in making the effort, and she determined to avail herself of

it.

Hastily putting on her shawl, Inez mentally invoked the assistance of

Heaven, and then, with noiseless footsteps, approached the chair on

which the old woman was sitting, to make sure that she was not assuming

drunkenness and sleep, and she was soon convinced that she was not. She

now lightly stepped on to the landing, and closing the door gently upon

the unconscious old woman, locked it after her, and thus left her a

secure prisoner. She then leant her head over the bannisters, and

listened attentively, but hearing no noise below, she was in hope that

all was right, and ventured to begin to descend the stairs.

Having passed down one flight, she once more paused and listened

attentively, but all remained as still as death, and her hopes became

more sanguine.

At length she reached the door of the parlor, which was closed, and Inez

hesitated, and her heart beat so vehemently against her side that she

could scarcely support herself.

‘Courage, Courage!’ she whispered to herself, ‘this is the critical

moment. Let me be firm, and I may escape.’

Her trembling and hesitation decreased as these thoughts crossed her

mind, and she laid her hand on the handle of the door. It opened with a

creaking noise, which again excited her fear, lest it should arouse the

man; but her alarm was, fortunately groundless. A light was burning on

the table, and the fire cast forth a cheerful blaze, and by their light

our heroine beheld a ruffian seated in the chair, his arms folded across

his chest, and fast asleep.

Inez’s heart bounded, and hope was strengthened tenfold. The near

prospect of liberty excited in her breast a feeling of extacy which may

be conceived but cannot be described. The moon shone brightly in at the

window, and its silvery beams seemed to smile encouragement upon her.

Another moment, she reflected, and she might inhale the pure air, and be

as free. The thought nerved her on; and knowing that every moment was

fraught with danger, she determined to act with promptitude. But the

sleeping ruffian was so seated that she could not gain the door without

passing him closely, and then she must act with the greatest caution or

she might arouse him. She advanced one step, but hastily retreated

again, hearing him yawn, and he seemed as if he was about to awaken. She

stood in trembling suspense, but it was not for long; the man having

stretched out his arms, and yawned two or three times, sunk back on his

chair again, and his loud snoring soon convinced her that he was again

asleep.

She now once more commended herself to the protection of Heaven, and

again advanced towards the door. She had passed the sleeping ruffian—the

door was in her hand, and liberty was just before her; when there was a

loud noise, like that of some heavy weight falling, from the room above;

and Inez was so alarmed that she had not the power of moving one way or

the other, but stood at the door trembling violently.

The noise immediately aroused the man, and, hastily starting to his

feet, he rubbed his eyes, and stared eagerly around the room. They

instantly rested on our unfortunate heroine, and, giving utterance to a

dreadful oath, he rushed towards her, and seizing her fiercely by the

arm, dragged her back. Inez sunk upon her knees, and in terrified

accents exclaimed—

‘Oh, mercy, mercy! spare me—save me, for the love of Heaven, save me!’

‘Ah! you would escape?’ exclaimed the ruffian; ‘speak, answer me—how did

you contrive to leave the apartment in which you have been confined?’

The ruffian looked ferociously upon her while he spoke, and Inez

trembled more violently than before when she gazed upon the frightful

features of the man. Her lips quivered, and in vain did she endeavor to

articulate a syllable.

‘Speak, I tell you again!’ demanded the villain; ‘how came you hither?

By what means did you contrive to leave the room?’

‘The door was left unfastened,’ faltered out Inez; ‘oh, do not harm me.’

‘The door left unfastened?’ repeated the man; ‘who left it so?’

‘The woman.’

‘Ah! the old hag—if she has done this she shall answer for it. But where

is she?’

‘In the room I have just quitted, and asleep,’ replied Inez.

‘Ah! I see how it is; myself and her have been indulging ourselves

rather too freely, and both are equally to blame; we must be more

cautious for the future. Come, my girl, you must allow me to escort you

to your old quarters, and depend upon it, you will not have such another

opportunity as this. Come!’

‘Oh,’ supplicated our heroine, not thinking in the despair of the

moment, of the uselessness of appealing to the flinty heart of the

wretch, ‘do not consign me, I beseech you, to that dismal apartment

again, take pity upon me, a deeply injured woman as I am, and suffer me

to escape. Believe me, you shall be amply rewarded for such an

inestimable service.’

‘Oh, no,’ returned the ruffian and a malignant grin overspread his

countenance; ‘it won’t do, I’m not to be caught in that way; I can very

well understand what my reward would be, but they must catch me before

they give it me. Ha! ha! ha! Come, come, you must come with me, or I

must use force—that’s all about it.’

Poor Inez clasped her hands in the intensity of her grief, and finding

that it would be useless to entreat any further, with a despairing

heart, she slowly retraced her footsteps to the chamber from which she

had so recently escaped, followed by the wretch.

On opening the door they found the old woman stretched at full length

upon the floor; and it was evident that it was from her that the noise

had proceeded, which so unfortunately aroused the man, and prevented her

escape, at the very moment when the chance was before her.

It was some time before the thief could arouse the old woman to

sensibility, and when she did so, he commanded her sternly to follow

him.

‘Hey day!’ cried the hag, rubbing her eyes, and looking with stupified

amazement at our heroine, who had sunk despairingly in a chair, and

leaning her elbow upon the table, and her head upon her hand, was

weeping bitterly; ‘what’s the matter now?’

‘What’s the matter!’ reiterated the man, ‘why, that through your

infernal stupidity, the bird had nearly flown.’

‘Ah—what, do you mean to say that she had nearly escaped?’ croaked forth

the old woman, and she looked more savage than ever at Inez.

‘Yes, I mean to say that she would have escaped,’ replied he, ‘and a

pretty scrape we should then both have got into.’

‘Why, where was I at the time?’

‘Fast asleep, and a safe prisoner in this room, locked in.’

‘Locked in!’ ejaculated the beldame, ‘oh, I see it all now, that

confounded gin got the better of me, and you too, I think, and,

therefore, one is as much to blame as the other. We ought to thank our

lucky stars that it has turned out as it has. But the artful jade, to

lock me in, to—to—’

‘There, that’s enough,’ interrupted the fellow, ‘you would stand talking

here all night. We will leave the lady to her own reflections, which,

doubtless, will not be very pleasant. Blodget will be home shortly, I

expect, and, should he find us together, he might suspect something

wrong. Good night, my lady, and when you next try to escape, you had

better use a little more expedition with your caution. Come, we must see

and arrange this business somehow or another.’

The old woman fixed upon Inez one more malicious look, and appeared to

exult in the agony she was undergoing at having been thwarted in her

attempt, and then following the wretch, they both quitted the room, and

secured the door after them.

They both congratulated themselves when they had got below, that Inez

had not been successful, and were determined to be more cautious in

future. Another moment, and our heroine would have been at liberty, and

they trembled when they reflected upon the consequences that would have

been certain to follow her escape. They both, however, considered that

it would be better for them not to mention anything about it to Blodget

or the others, as it would only excite his suspicions that all was not

right, and probably deprive them of his confidence and friendship,

which, as he was very liberal, was not to be treated lightly. Thus the

affair was amicably arranged between the two worthies, and the old

spitfire determined to annoy our unfortunate heroine more than ever, for

the ‘audacious’ (as she termed it) attempt she had made to escape, and

moreover, for her unparalleled presumption and atrocity, in having

actually made her a prisoner in the very place where she had been

herself confined.

As for poor Inez, she was completely overwhelmed with the intensity of

her anguish and disappointment, and for some time after the man and the

old woman had left her, she remained in almost a state of

unconsciousness.

‘Alas,’ she at last ejaculated, beating her breast, ‘fate has conspired

against me, and I am doomed to perpetual misery. Am I never to escape

from the power of these wretches? Has the Omnipotent Being entirely

forsaken me? Oh, God! let me die rather than live to endure this

succession of miseries and disappointments.’

She clasped her burning temples, and arising from her chair, traversed

the room in the greatest possible agony. If Blodget should become

acquainted with the circumstance, she could not help thinking that he

would be induced to adopt even more stringent measures towards her; but

then she consoled herself with the reflection that it was not likely

that the man or the old woman would let him know anything about it, as

they would be blamed for neglect, and Blodget would deem it prudent to

remove her to some other place of confinement. She passed two or three

hours in the greatest state of agitation, and could not venture to

retire to rest, but listened to the slightest sound which proceeded from

below, fearing to hear the villain Blodget return home.

At length all was still in the house, and tired out with thinking, Inez

committed herself to the care of Providence, and undressing herself,

hastened into bed, and, in spite of the state of her mind, after the

painful event which we have been detailing, she was so weary, that it

was not long ere she sunk to sleep.

--------------

CHAPTER XVII

The Seducer Resisted.

We left our heroine in a calm slumber, into which she had sunk after the

fatigue of thinking and the anguish of her mind. She continued in it

until a storm arose, which awoke her, and jumping up in the bed, she

scarcely knew where she was. Confused thoughts darted across her

perturbed imagination, and she had in an instant a foreboding, a

presentiment, that something particular was about to occur to her. She

heard no one but the old woman moving below, and recollecting that she

had seen Blodget quit the house at an early hour in the morning, she

thought it was probable that he had not yet returned, and she became

rather more composed. Then, however, she remembered some dark hints

which the hateful old woman had thrown out to her in the morning, and

again were her utmost apprehensions of some fresh misery excited.

Sometime she continued in this manner, when she heard a confusion of

voices from below, among which she distinguished that of a female and

Blodget’s, but she could not understand a single word that they gave

utterance to.

She now endeavored to calm her feelings, and prepare for the meeting

which she had no doubt would take place between her and Blodget; who she

resolved to meet with all the fortitude she could possibly muster. She

knelt down, and supplicated the aid of the Almighty; and implored that

He would frustrate the designs of the wicked, and not suffer her to fall

a victim to the diabolical stratagems of the miscreant who at present

held her in his power.

As it ever is the case, when the sincere heart breathes its prayers to

Heaven, our heroine felt almost immediately more tranquil and prepared

to meet her oppressor, and she arose from her knees with a determination

to support herself with an air of fortitude, which should abash rather

than encourage the villain’s nefarious hopes.

She had not long come to this resolution, when she heard a footstep

ascending the stairs, and shortly afterwards the door of her apartment

was unbolted, and the door was opened, and the object of her hatred and

her fears presented himself before her. She met his looks firmly, and

with an air of becoming dignity, and it was evident, although he

endeavored to disguise it, that something of more importance than usual

occupied his thoughts.

He stood for a second or two in the doorway, and seemed anxious to

address her, yet at a loss how to begin. Then he seemed abashed at the

calm dignity of Inez’s manner, and at the same time lost in admiration

of her extreme beauty, which, although much impaired by the ravages of

care, was still most superlative.

Notwithstanding the firmness which she assumed, Inez felt a trembling

apprehension of the interview; and had much difficulty in conquering her

feelings.

At length Blodget advanced nearer to our heroine, closing the door after

him, and after several ineffectual attempts to speak, he observed, in as

insinuating tone as he could assume—

‘Beauteous Inez, after a temporary absence from your presence, which has

appeared an age to me, I again come to bask in the sunshine of your

beauty—again to solicit a return of that passion which I so ardently

feel for you.’

‘Villain!’ ejaculated Inez, ‘receive my answer in the utter contempt,

disgust, abhorrence I feel for you; and rest assured that no other

feeling can ever inhabit my breast towards a wretch who has proved

himself destitute of every feeling of humanity.’

‘This violence is useless,’ returned Blodget; ‘I have given you plenty

of time to consider: this day I come hither to decide: I have waited

patiently long enough.’

‘Monster!’ cried the distracted lady, and her eyes at the same time

beamed an expression which seemed as if it would penetrate to his soul;

‘where is my poor father, from whom you have so mercilessly torn me? Can

you recollect the unparalleled act of cruelty you have been guilty of,

and yet stand there and talk to me, the affianced bride of another,

about love?’

‘To all these passionate expressions I pay little or no attention; for

they affect me not,’ returned the hardened villain. ‘It is enough that I

have fixed my mind on you; I have labored hard, and risked much, to get

possession of you—you are now in my power, and mine, in spite of all

entreaties and tears, shall be!’

‘Oh, heartless miscreant.’

‘Nay, think not that I would willingly resort to violence,’ observed

Blodget, in a milder tone of voice; ‘no, I would win you by my actions;

by my love;—I would be to you the most ardent and affectionate companion

that woman desire; I—’

‘Cease!’ interrupted Inez, in a commanding tone of voice, which seemed

to enforce immediate obedience; ‘I will not listen to your guilty

language, it disgusts me. Your presence makes me feel as if a fiend,

instead of a human being, were standing before me; begone! and leave me

again to the solitude of my unjust confinement.’

‘Not yet, fair Inez,’ returned Blodget, with a supercilious smile; ‘you

and I must not part until we understand each other.’

‘I perfectly understand you, sir,’ said Inez, ‘and depend upon it, all

that you can say will but add to the utter abhorrence which I bear

towards you.’

‘But you must yield!’

‘Never!’

‘How can you save yourself? Are you not in my power?’

‘True; but I have a friend in Providence who will not suffer me to fall

a victim to the nefarious designs of a diabolical villain like you.’

‘Upon my word you are very liberal with your compliments;’ said Blodget,

with a half-sneering laugh, although it was very plain to be seen that

he was very much chagrined at the manner in which our heroine addressed

him.

‘Is there any epithet strong enough that I can apply to a man like you?’

demanded Inez. ‘Has not your conduct proved you to be a miscreant, too—’

‘Come, come,’ interrupted Blodget, and a slight scowl passed over his

brows, ‘I do not mind a little flattery, but when it proceeds to

extremes, I must acknowledge that I have not a stomach to take it. Any

epithet that you may apply to me, you must be aware cannot have any

other effect than that of exasperating me to that which I might

afterwards be sorry for. But how can you be so foolish as to remain thus

obstinately opposed to the wishes of a man who would make it his

unceasing study to render you happy?’

‘Happy!’ exclaimed Inez, ‘and dare you talk to me of happiness, when I

am torn from all that renders life desirable? Wretch, unnatural monster

you must think me, to be capable of listening to the licentious vows of

a man who has been the author of all my miseries! Talk to me of

happiness, and keep me confined in this awful house, surrounded only by

the votaries of guilt, who would not hesitate to dye their hands in my

blood.’

‘They dare not; they act alone by my orders,’ answered Blodget. ‘But why

thus delay the time in conversing on matters of no immediate interest?

Again, Inez, I solicit your love. Say that you will be mine, all but

that which the idle ceremony of wedlock can make you, and there is not a

pleasure which gold can purchase, or this world supply, which you shall

not have at your command. We will hasten far from hence, and in a place

where we are unknown, forget that there are others than ourselves in

existence.’

Inez shuddered with horror at the coolness and effrontery with which the

libertine uttered these expressions, and she could scarcely believe that

she was standing in the presence of a human being.

‘Oh, no,’ replied Blodget, ‘think not that I can be induced to leave you

so soon this day, at any rate. Upon your determined answer your fate

depends.’

‘You have already had my answer,’ returned Inez.

‘Will nothing persuade you to alter it?’

‘Nothing, by Heaven!’

‘Beware! take not an oath!’

‘I can with safety, for nothing would induce me to swerve from it.’

‘You had better bethink yourself.’

‘I have thought sufficiently, and I am decided.’

‘Recollect that, if you refuse, I shall be compelled to resort to

force.’

‘I will die first.’

‘You will not have the means.’

‘Almighty God surely, will never suffer so black a deed.’

‘Bah!—that is all idle cant. Think, too, that if you refuse, you will

still be kept here a prisoner, deprived of every comfort, and yet

subservient to my wishes.’

‘Oh, horror! You cannot surely be the monster!’

‘I would not willingly, but you would drive me to it.’

‘Oh, repent, repent!’

‘Pshaw! Will that gratify my desires?’

‘It will afford me a far greater gratification.’

‘I shall not try it.’

‘Alas! you are indeed a guilty miscreant.’

‘Thank you, again, for your compliment; I have pointed out to you the

horrors that will attend your refusal; say, shall I point out to you the

happiness that will attend you, if you comply with my request?’

‘I want not to hear them, they cannot make any alteration in my

determination,’ answered our heroine, covering her face with her

handkerchief, and sobbing aloud with her disgusted and wounded feelings.

‘Still must I think that you will change your mind;’ returned Blodget

with the same guilty expression of countenance in which his features

were almost constantly clad—‘remember the sweets of liberty will then be

yours.’

‘And of what use would liberty be to me, when it would be purchased by a

life of infamy?’ demanded Inez; ‘could anything ever reconcile it to my

conscience, to become the base paramour of a guilty being like you? The

bare thought fills me with a sensation of the utmost dread, and death in

its most horrible form would be preferable to such a course of life.’

‘But is there nothing that could prevail upon you?’

‘Nothing;’ answered Inez, with a look of the greatest disgust and

horror.

‘Think again!’

‘I have nothing more to say upon the detested subject.’

‘If, by so doing, you could purchase the life of Monteagle—’

‘Ah!’ grasped forth Inez, turning deadly pale, and clutching the arm of

Blodget, and with distended eye-lids;—‘what mean you? Speak! speak!—I

know you have something of a particular nature to impart to me! Reveal

it! I beseech you, and keep me not in suspense!—Oh, Blodget if you have

indeed any regard for my feelings, tell me, what of Monteagle?’

‘Calm your feelings!’

‘You rack me!’

‘Compose yourself!’

‘Talk not to me of composure!’ shrieked Inez.

‘He is in my power.’

Poor Inez tried hard to speak, but she could not; she was transfixed to

the spot, and gazed upon Blodget with a look in which the greatest

astonishment and horror were depicted. The announcement of Blodget came

like a thunderbolt upon her, and her faculties seemed to be all bound up

in the suddenness and unexpectedness of the circumstance.

‘If you are not a monster of the blackest dye,’ exclaimed Inez at

length, ‘you will not delight in thus harrowing my feelings! but tell me

have you spoken the truth? Do not keep me in suspense! Oh, do not! Have

you indeed said that which is true?’

‘I have,’ answered Blodget;—‘Monteagle is now in my power.’

‘Are you bent to drive me mad?’ exclaimed the frenzied Inez, as, with

clasped hands, she gazed vehemently and supplicatingly in the

countenance of her oppressor.

‘No, no! I would restore you to happiness,’ replied Blodget.

‘Happiness!’ groaned Inez; ‘oh, cruel mockery to talk to me thus; and to

continue to keep me in this state of agony and suspense.’

‘Compose yourself,’ again remonstrated Blodget, in a gentler tone, than

he had before spoken, and at the same time venturing to approach her

closer; ‘compose yourself. Consent to my wishes, and Monteagle shall at

once be free.—Refuse he dies!’

‘Never, miscreant!’ cried Inez, and fell powerless to the floor.

Blodget was alarmed,—so still and marble-like did the fair girl lie. No

motion of her white bosom gave the slightest evidence that she breathed.

The villain trembled, and for an instant remorse touched his heart. But

no sooner did a slight convulsive shudder show that she still lived,

than he turned and left the apartment.

Blodget sent the old woman to Inez, who succeeded in restoring her to

consciousness.

The next morning Jenkins returned. He seemed in haste.

Sending for several members of his gang he was soon engaged in earnest

conversation.

‘Gordon, say not a word to Blodget,’ said Jenkins.

‘Should he try to escape?’ said Gordon.

‘Shoot him, as you would a mad coyote,’ said Jenkins.

‘Had we not best confine him?’

‘No,—wait my return. He will probably send for Kay, Maretzo, and others

of his old cronies. If he tries to bribe one of you to take a message

for him to them affect to be won over by his gold, carry the message for

him, and then hasten to me at the Mission.’

‘But where are you to be found, captain?’

‘Joaquin will inform you of my whereabouts.’

‘But, captain, why do you wish Kay and the rest of them to be engaged in

this affair?’

‘In order that they may be captured in the actual commission of a daring

crime—as they will doubtless hasten to assist Blodget to carry off the

lady.’

Jenkins then visited Blodget.

To the great surprise of Blodget, Jenkins instead of greeting him with

friendly warmth, rejected his proffered hand, and addressing him

sternly, said: ‘I am about to leave this place for a few days, if during

my absence you insult Miss Inez by word or look, or ever approach the

rooms she occupies, you shall as surely die as my name is Jenkins!’ Then

turning to a young girl, who had accompanied him to the house, the

robber-captain addressed her thus: ‘Alice, you will I know do all you

can to make this poor young lady as happy as possible while I am away. I

do not promise you any reward, for I know your own goodness of heart has

induced you to volunteer to be her friend and companion.’

Jenkins then gave the old woman instructions to obey Alice on every

point, and whispering a few words to Gordon, Jenkins left the apartment,

and soon after the house.

Blodget was astounded at this change in the behavior of Jenkins, and

concluded that he had informed upon him, and thus made his own peace

with the authorities. He was confirmed in this, when he went to step

from the house, for Gordon stepped up to him, and placing a revolver at

his breast, threatened to shoot him if he crossed the threshold. Finding

an attempt to escape would only lead to his instant death, Blodget

determined during Jenkins’ absence to consummate his intentions on Inez,

and then devise some mode of gaining Gordon to allow him to escape.

The girl whom Jenkins had addressed as Alice, had seen some seventeen

springs, the apple-blossoms of which were not more beautifully tinted

than her fair cheeks; nor their skies a deeper blue than her love-lit

eyes. Her form was perfect—her step light and springy as an antelope’s.

Her name was Alice Hewlett, and she was known in the neighborhood as

‘the Squatter’s Daughter.’ She had heard of a lady’s being confined in

Gordon’s house, and readily availed herself of the request of Jenkins to

be the fair captive’s companion, until she could be restored to her

friends.

Alice immediately went to Inez.

‘My dear young lady, I come to stay with you.’

Inez gazed inquiringly upon her fair, ingenuous face.

‘You may safely trust me, Miss.’

‘I do—I do—dear girl. Vice never wore so fair a front.’

‘Lady, I will not leave you, but at your request.’

‘Oh, thanks, thanks. You know not what a load you’ve taken from my sad

heart.’

Jenkins went to the old crone, and gave her some directions, adding

sternly, ‘Mind and do as I have told you!’

The old woman muttered an obedience to his orders, and he immediately

quitted the room.

He had not been gone many minutes, when she retired to her own little

closet, where she always had a bottle or two of ‘the best,’ and was soon

in a fair way to enjoy herself, and to become entirely unconscious of

all that was taking place; and Blodget hailing the so long-looked for

opportunity with pleasure, he ascended the stairs on tiptoe, and having

reached the rooms appropriated to the use of Inez, he knocked.

Alice, probably thinking it was the woman, quickly opened the door, but

started back with no little amazement, when she beheld the villain

Blodget.—He instantly stepped into the room, and Inez hearing the

exclamation which Alice had given utterance to came from her room, but

on seeing Blodget, she turned very pale, and trembled so violently that

she could scarcely prevent herself from sinking on the floor.

The forbidding features of Blodget relaxed into a smile, which he meant

to be one of kindness, but he could not conceal his exultation, and the

guilty passions that raged like a tempest within his bosom, and turning

to Alice, he said, in an authoritative tone—

‘Leave the room.’

Alice hesitated, and looked at our heroine.

‘Do you hear?’ demanded Blodget, in a louder tone;—‘begone, I’ve

something to say to this lady, which must not meet your ear.’

‘You should have nothing to say to me, sir, which should be kept a

secret from a second person. Alice, I desire you to remain where you

are; Mr. Blodget can have no authority for obtruding his hateful

presence upon one whom he has already so deeply, so irreparably injured.

Do not depart, Alice!—I desire you!’

‘These mandates are of no avail,’ cried Blodget; ‘I have long sought

this interview, and I will not now be foiled. Begone, I say!’

‘I’ll remain where I am, sir, while it is the wish of the lady,’

returned Alice, in a firm tone.

‘Ah!’ exclaimed Blodget; his eyes expressive of fierce anger, ‘dare

you?—Then you must go by force.’

Immediately seizing Alice, as he spoke, by the shoulders, he pushed her

violently from the room, and closing the door, locked it, preventing her

return. He advanced towards Inez, who, upon the impulse of the moment,

was in the act of retreating to her chamber, and fastening herself in,

when the villain sprang quickly forward, and seizing her vehemently by

the arm, he drew her back.

‘Unmanly ruffian!’ cried Inez, ‘unhand me, or my cries shall reach the

ears of those who will punish you for your boldness and cruelty! What is

the meaning of this savage outrage?’

‘It means, fair Inez,’ replied Blodget, forcibly throwing his arm around

her waist, and drawing her towards him, ‘that, finding I have too long

been a forbearing fool, when I had you in my power, I am determined that

I will no longer wait for the gratification of my wishes. I have

condescended to sue to you, where I might long since have enforced your

compliance; I have made you every reasonable proposal, and have

submitted patiently to your scorn, and contemptuous rejection of my

suit, but I am now roused to a full sense of my folly, and am determined

at all hazards, that you shall be mine!’

‘Brutal monster!’ exclaimed Inez, violently struggling; for the

expressions of Blodget, and his determined demeanor, filled her with the

utmost terror—‘are you not satisfied with probably having murdered my

unfortunate father, and inflicted upon me a series of miseries almost

unparalleled in the annals of inhumanity, but that you would now add to

your barbarity by so atrocious a crime as you threaten? Oh, help!

help!—Holy Virgin, I call upon thee for thy protection!—Oh, save me!

save me!’

As the distracted and terrified lady thus screamed, she struggled

violently to extricate herself from the embraces of the ruffian Blodget,

but her efforts were for some time entirely ineffectual, and with every

endeavor she made, the passions of Blodget increased, and his cheeks

glowed and his eyes flashed with the guilty desires that raged within

his breast. He sought, however, to stifle her cries, but in vain.

‘Nay,’ he cried, ‘you scream for help in vain; there is no one at hand

to interpose to save you! The triumph so long protracted, now is mine!

This hour; this very moment gives you to my arms!’

‘Almighty God! protect me! save me!’ again shrieked our heroine, in the

most frantic accents, and, with a desperate effort she released herself

from Blodget’s hold, and retreated to the farther end of the apartment,

where, on a table, was a knife. Scarcely knowing what she did, she

snatched it up, and, as Blodget approached towards her, she flourished

it menacingly, and exclaimed:

‘Villain! advance but an inch towards me, and this knife shall stretch

me a bleeding corpse at your feet!’

Blodget was completely staggered by the determined air which Inez

assumed, and he was transfixed to the spot whereon he stood, not knowing

what course to pursue.

Our heroine still flourished the knife menacingly, and kept the villain

at bay.

‘You see I am resolute,’ she cried; ‘and, by Heaven, sooner than I will

be dishonored, I will put my threat into execution! Death is preferable

to the dreadful, the disgusting fate which you have threatened me. Nay,

nothing can move me from my purpose! Quit the room, miscreant; unless

you would have my death to answer for, in addition to your other

numerous crimes!’

‘Inez,’ ejaculated Blodget, offering to approach her; ‘hear me!’

‘Not a word,’ firmly replied Inez; ‘nothing whatever can shake my

resolution; begone!’

At that moment a loud noise was heard at the chamber door, and

immediately afterwards the voices of several persons.

Blodget turned pale and trembled.

‘Ah!’ he ejaculated.

‘Open the door, or it will be worse for you,’ now demanded the voice of

Gordon.

‘Never!’ cried Blodget, desperately, and placing his back against it as

he spoke.

‘Then we must use force,’ returned Gordon; ‘now, lads, your aid.’

In an instant the door was burst open, and Gordon, followed by three

rough-looking men, entered the room.

‘Seize him, my lads; and bear him hence!’ cried Gordon, and in a moment

the men rushed upon Blodget, who made a desperate resistance, but was

quickly overpowered, and was conveyed, struggling, swearing, and foaming

at the mouth, from the room, and being dragged to one of the dark vaults

underground, was, by the orders of Gordon, locked in, and left to his

own reflections, the nature of which may be readily conjectured, but

cannot be properly described.

Alice, immediately on being thrust out of the room by Blodget, had

hastened below, where, ascertaining that Gordon was from home, although

it was very reluctantly that the old woman furnished her with the

information, she made the best of her way to the cabaret, where she

fortunately found him, in company with the men before mentioned, and

having informed him of the perilous situation of our heroine, he left

the place, and, as has been shown, arrived just at the critical

juncture, to save her from destruction.

Blodget had no sooner been forced away from the room, than our heroine,

overpowered by her feelings, and the unusual excitement she had

undergone, fainted, and Alice Hewlett was once more left alone with her,

and immediately set about the means of restoring her sensibility.

It would be impossible to portray correctly the disappointment and

ungovernable rage of Blodget, when he found himself not only foiled in

his diabolical attempt, but made a prisoner in that gloomy vault. He

raved; he stormed; he cursed and swore, and breathed the most fearful

maledictions against Alice, Gordon, and Jenkins. Then he made the place

re-echo again with his cries to be released, but the hollow

reverberations of that subterranean place, were the only answers he

received, and he traversed the limited space in which he was confined,

in a state bordering upon madness. He now at once saw that he was

caught, trepanned, defeated, and all his well laid schemes rendered

abortive, and himself left entirely at the mercy of Jenkins and his

associates, and when he recollected the threats which the former had

held out to him, if he should make any attempt against the peace of

Inez, during his absence, he felt that he had every reason to apprehend

the most terrible consequences through his mad impetuosity. All the

horrors of an ignominious death rushed upon his mind, and his anguish

was so great, that he completely sunk under it. He crouched down in one

corner of his cell, and became the image of despair. It appeared as

though his career of guilt was fast drawing to a close, and, that fate

had destined, that every attempt he should in future make should be

frustrated.

In this state he remained for more than two hours, without any one

appearing to interrupt him, when he heard some one unbolting the door of

his cell, and immediately afterwards it was thrown back on its hinges,

and Gordon, accompanied by one of the men who had been his companions in

the seizure, entered.

He brought with him a stone pitcher, containing water and a loaf, which

he placed on the ground, and then eyed Blodget with a look of the most

malignant exultation.

Blodget sprang to his feet; fury gleaming in his eyes, and advancing

towards Gordon, he cried, in a hoarse voice:—

‘Dastard!—why am I thus seized and made a prisoner in this dismal

place?’

‘Recollect your recent conduct,’ said Gordon coolly, ‘and you are

answered.’

‘And what authority has either he or you for detaining me?’ demanded

Blodget.

‘Upon that point I dare say you will be satisfied at a future time,’

returned Gordon, in the same deliberate and careless tones.

‘But you will not dare detain me?’

‘That has to be proved.’

‘Villain! you will have to answer dearly for this,’ said Blodget.

‘Previous to which,’ retorted Gordon, ironically, ‘you will probably be

called to a slight account for the abduction and unlawful detention of

the lady, also for a certain crime since, and—’

‘Confusion!’ interrupted Blodget;—‘am I then placed in the power of

every wretch? Oh, Jenkins! Jenkins! for this, my heaviest malediction

light upon your head.’

‘Trusting that you may soon feel at home in your new apartment,’ said

Gordon, with a most provoking grin, ‘I will now leave you to the

enjoyment of it. Come on.’

And thus saying, before Blodget could give utterance to another

syllable, although his looks evinced the torturing feelings of chagrin,

disappointment, and resentment he was undergoing, Gordon and his

companion quitted the cell, and slammed and bolted the door after them,

leaving Blodget involved in utter darkness, for they had not supplied

him with a lamp.

Blodget threw himself on the hard ground, and he groaned aloud with the

agony of his feelings, but his present suffering was nothing compared

with the horrors of anticipation, and he dreaded the return of Jenkins,

fearing that the terrible result would be that which he promised him.

Three days and nights passed away in this manner, and Blodget was still

kept a prisoner in the subterranean vault, and was daily visited by

Gordon, who came to bring him his scanty allowance of provisions, and to

taunt him with his degraded and altered situation. The unhappy wretch

was at length completely subdued in spirit, and was incapable of

answering the ruffian, and he was at last so humbled as to entreat

Gordon’s mercy, and to pray that he would release him from his present

place of confinement to one less dismal. This request, however, Gordon

only treated with scorn and derision; so true it is that none feel

greater pleasure than the guilty in torturing one another. Although

Blodget had never given the ruffian the least cause for offence, but, on

the contrary, according to his own admission, had liberally rewarded him

for the nefarious actions in which he had employed him, he now felt the

most savage delight in adding to his misery as much as possible; and the

more he saw him suffer, and the more humbled he was, the greater did he

exult. He had no doubt he should receive great praise, and something far

more substantial from Jenkins for the manner in which he had acted, and

he anticipated his return with much impatience. He was not made

thoroughly acquainted with Jenkins’ intention as regarded Inez, but he

had not the least doubt it was to restore her to her friends, and he

imagined he would ensure from them a rich reward, in which he also

expected to become a sharer to no small amount for the services he had

rendered. How far his expectations were realized, will be seen anon.

When our heroine had quite recovered from the shock which she received

from the behavior of the villain Blodget, she returned her most

heartfelt thanks to the Almighty for her preservation, and for the

fortitude with which she had been imbued to resist him. She then

expressed her warmest acknowledgments to Alice, to whose presence of

mind in hastening for the aid of Gordon, she might, in a great measure,

attribute her preservation. The conduct of Gordon, who, there could not

be the least doubt, acted entirely by the orders of Jenkins, left her no

longer any room to doubt but that the latter was really the friend and

protector he had told her was, and now that Blodget was thrust into

confinement, from which they were assured he would not be released until

the return of the captain, our heroine felt that she was safe.

‘What ready means guilt often unthinkingly takes to defeat its own

designs:’ observed Alice; ‘Blodget thrusting me out of the room, was the

very cause of bringing about his own confusion, and frustrating his evil

intentions; for, had he placed me in another room, and confined me

therein, he might easily have silenced the old woman, had she been

inclined to oppose him, and thus he would have been almost certain to

have obtained his object.’

‘Oh, no,’ returned Inez, ‘my mind was made up; never did I feel more

determined, and he perceived it; I would have plunged the knife to my

heart, sooner than he would have triumphed in his disgusting and

diabolical purpose!’

‘Oh, Miss,’ said Alice, ‘the idea of that makes me shudder with horror!

Heaven be praised, that preserved you from such a dreadful and untimely

end. But the wretch will no doubt be amply punished for his crimes, and

for all the sufferings that he has inflicted upon you.’

‘And how think you that Jenkins will dispose of him?’ interrogated Inez.

‘Deliver him up to the Vigilance Committee,’ replied Alice.

‘How can he do so without getting himself into trouble?’

‘Oh, there is no doubt but that he will readily hit upon a plan,’ said

Alice; ‘I dare say that he has already arranged that, without knowing

anything of the late circumstance. Clear up, Miss, for depend upon it,

your troubles are fast drawing to a close, and not many days will elapse

ere you will be again restored to your friends.’

‘Alas,’ ejaculated Inez, tears gushing to her eyes, ‘perhaps I have no

dear friends to receive me! Oh, how my poor heart chills at the

thought.’

‘Pray, Miss,’ said Alice, ‘do not encourage fears which, after all, may

prove unfounded. Great, no doubt, as has been the sufferings of

Monteagle and your father, I firmly believe that they are still living,

or Jenkins and the others would have heard of it.’

‘My unhappy lover may have been able to withstand the severity of his

accumulated and unparalleled calamities,’ observed Inez, ‘but, my poor

father; oh, well am I convinced that his mind must have now become a

wreck, in which case, it would be a mercy if the Almighty should be

pleased to take him to Himself. Poor grey-haired old man, fondest of

parents, best of human beings, shall I ever again be enfolded to thy

paternal bosom, with the conviction that thou art conscious it is thy

poor persecuted daughter thou dost embrace?—Alas! I fear never!’

‘Oh, yes, Miss, you will,’ ejaculated Alice, energetically, ‘Heaven in

its infinite mercy will not deny you such a blessing after the many

afflictions you have so undeservedly undergone. Have you not every

reason to place the firmest reliance upon its goodness, after the manner

in which you have ever been preserved in the moment of the most imminent

danger?’

‘Yes, my good girl,’ replied our heroine, drying her tears, ‘indeed I

have, and it is ungrateful in me thus to give way to despair. But my

mind is so continually tormented, that I scarcely know what I am

saying.’

‘At any rate,’ observed her companion, ‘now that Blodget is made a

prisoner you may rest yourself secure, and Jenkins, I dare say, will not

be long before he returns; when you will speedily be made acquainted

with intentions, which, as I have all along predicted, depend upon it,

will be all in your favor.’

The ideas of Alice were too reasonable to be rejected by Inez, and she

looked forward to the return of Jenkins with the greatest anxiety.

A fortnight had now waned away, and still Jenkins and his companions did

not return, and Gordon, who did not expect that they would be gone so

long, was fearful lest some accident should have befallen them. He still

kept the wretched Blodget confined in the same place, and he now became

the complete victim of despair. His form had wasted away, and his

countenance betrayed the deep, the intense agony which perpetually

tortured his mind. How dreary were the days and nights passed in that

dark cell, where he had nothing to commune but his own dreadful

thoughts, and where the horrors of his own guilty conscience constantly

brought to his imagination the many crimes he had committed. Conjecture

cannot form but a weak picture of the mental sufferings of that man of

crime. Oh, who would be guilty, did they but think upon the horrors that

must sooner or later overtake them?—For the gratification of some moment

of sensual pleasure; for the transitory indulgence of some ambitious

wish, the unhappy wretch falls into crime, to pay for it by years of

mental suffering, and ignominious death, and an eternity of torment!—Oh,

how fearful the price, would but erring mortals pause and think!

It was on a stormy midnight, when nearly three weeks had elapsed since

Jenkins had left, when a party who were in company with Gordon in the

little back room, smoking, were suddenly aroused by hearing a shrill

whistle. The cigars were removed from their lips in an instant, and they

jumped hastily to their feet.

‘Jenkins’s signal, by all that’s fortunate;’ exclaimed Gordon, advancing

towards the door, ‘they have come back at last, and all safe, I hope!’

‘This has, indeed, been a long trip captain,’ said Gordon, ‘and I had

began to fear that you were never going to return.’

‘Better late than never,’ answered Jenkins; ‘but how is all at the

house?’

‘Quite safe, captain,’ replied Gordon, with a peculiar grin, ‘the lady

is in her own apartments with her companion, Alice, and that arrant

scoundrel Blodget, confined in one of the vaults underneath, where he

has been since two or three days after your departure.’

‘Ah!’ exclaimed Jenkins, ‘has he then dared to scorn the warning that I

gave him?’

Gordon briefly related what had taken place between Blodget and our

heroine.

‘Why, the damned villain!’ cried Jenkins, passionately; ‘after the

strict injunctions which I laid upon him, and knowing that he was placed

entirely at my mercy. But he shall pay dearly for it; his doom is

sealed.’

‘I did not know whether you would approve of the lodging I had given the

fellow,’ answered Gordon.

‘You have acted perfectly right,’ said Jenkins; ‘and I commend you for

what you have done. Blodget shall quickly have another berth, and his

career he may reckon at an end. And is the lady quite well?’

Gordon answered in the affirmative.

‘I am happy to hear that,’ said Jenkins; ‘she shall not much longer

remain in the position she is now placed in.—Poor lady, I shall for ever

regret having been instrumental in any way towards her unhappiness; but

I knew not who she was, or the villain Blodget should not have retained

possession of her. However, his time of shame is fast approaching, and

bitterly will he have to pay for all.’

‘It is, then, your intention to restore the lady to liberty?’ asked

Gordon.

‘Certainly,’ answered Jenkins, ‘and to her friends.’

‘But you will run a great risk in so doing, will you not?’

‘No; leave me alone for that; I have arranged everything in my own

mind,’ said Jenkins.

‘But how do you propose to dispose of Blodget?’ inquired Gordon.

‘I have not exactly made up my mind, although I did threaten him with

death,’ answered Jenkins. ‘To-morrow night, or the next, I shall convey

the scoundrel far away from hence.’

‘You would not deprive him of life?’

‘No,’ replied Jenkins, ‘not by my own hands; besides it would be a pity

to deprive the hangman of a job.’

Gordon did not return any answer to this, for when he recollected the

crimes of which he had himself been guilty, he thought that it was not

all unlikely that he should himself afford employment for that

functionary, sooner or later.

In the morning early, the robber captain was traversing his way along

the vaulted passages, and at length stopped at the door of the vault in

which Blodget was confined. There he paused and listened, for he could

not help feeling that he was only justly punished for the part he had

played towards the unfortunate Inez and her friends.

At length he withdrew the bolts, and entered the cell. The dim light

which was emitted by the lamp which Jenkins carried, could but faintly

penetrate the gloom of the miserable place, so that Blodget did not at

first perceive who it was that had entered, and no doubt, did not think

that it was any one else than Gordon; and the robber stood contemplating

him for a minute or two in silence, but resentment was strongly

portrayed in his countenance.

‘So, villain,’ he at length said, ‘you have dared to brave my threats,

to disobey my injunctions, and have again offered to—’

He was interrupted by a loud exclamation from Blodget, who, upon

recognizing his voice, sprang forward, and in the most abject manner

knelt at Jenkins’s feet, and looked up in his face with the most earnest

supplication.

‘Oh, Jenkins,’ he cried, in the most impressive tones; ‘spare me;—pity

me;—pardon me!—I will own my guilt;—I will acknowledge I was wrong; but

let the agony I have for the last fortnight endured in this place

satisfy you, and do not, oh, do not proceed to extremities.’

Jenkins fixed upon him a look of the utmost contempt, as he replied:

‘And have you, then, the effrontery to crave pardon, after setting all

my injunctions at defiance? I gave you sufficient warning of what the

consequences would be, did you not obey me; you have scorned it, and

those consequences you must abide by.’

‘No, no;’ groaned the poor terrified wretch, still remaining on his

knees, and looking the very picture of death, with the excess of his

fears; ‘you will not surely do as you say?—You will not deliver me up to

justice?—Consign me to an ignominious and violent death! Pause ere you

do so!—My death will avail you nothing. Suffer me therefore to live to

repent, and I promise you that neither Inez or her friends shall receive

any further annoyance from me!’

‘I will take especial care that they do not;’ returned Jenkins with a

sarcastic grin.’

‘My life will at any time be in your hands,’ added the poor, trembling

coward; ‘should I again break my word, Jenkins, I beg of you, I

supplicate to you, in the most humble manner do not doom me yet to

death!’

‘Despicable scoundrel!’ ejaculated Jenkins; ‘so dead to the sufferings

of others; and yet so fearful of suffering himself. Wretch! you deserve

to die the death of a dog, and you will do so.’

Blodget groaned and covered his face with his hands.

‘Prepare yourself to depart from here in my custody to-morrow night,’

said Jenkins, as he moved towards the door of the cell.

‘Whither, Jenkins, and for what purpose? Oh, tell me! tell me!’

entreated Blodget, his whole frame violently convulsed with the power of

his emotions. Jenkins looked at him for a moment in silence, and then

replied,—

‘You will know soon; at present I shall leave you to form your own

conjectures, and to ask your conscience what ought to be your destiny.’

‘Stay, Jenkins, I beseech you!’ cried the unfortunate prisoner, in

delirious accents; but Jenkins had immediately quitted the cell, and

securing the door was quickly far out of hearing.

‘inquire whether Miss Inez will do me the favor to grant me an

interview,’ said Jenkins, addressing himself to Gordon, soon after he

had entered the parlor, after he quitted the place in which Blodget was

confined.

Gordon, without offering any observation, hastened to do as he was bid,

and quickly returned with an answer in the affirmative. Jenkins then

hurried up stairs, and knocking at the door, was ushered into the

presence of Inez.

He paused at the door, and bowed to our heroine with an air of the

utmost respect, and he was altogether lost in the admiration of Inez’s

beauty. Her cheeks had become flushed immediately on her hearing the

message from Jenkins, and her heart palpitated violently against her

side with rekindled hopes.

‘Miss,’ at last observed Jenkins, in a respectful tone of voice; ‘I have

no doubt suffered much in your opinion, from the part which I at first

unfortunately enacted in the plot against you by your enemy, Blodget.’

Our heroine attempted to reply, but she was too much confused to do so,

and Jenkins continued,

‘I am now, however, anxious to make all the reparation in my power, by

restoring you to liberty and your friends!’

Inez uttered an exclamation of mingled delight and gratitude, and

instantly sunk at the feet of Jenkins, and while the tears gushed from

her eyes, she sobbed:

‘Oh, thanks! thanks! kind sir, for this—’

Jenkins interrupted her, and gently raised her from her knees.

‘Nay, my dear lady,’ he said, ‘I merit not your thanks; for, probably,

had it not been for a certain discovery I by accident made, I might

still have taken no interest in your fate.’

‘A discovery!’ repeated Inez, with a look of astonishment.

‘Ay,’ answered the captain; ‘that you are the daughter of one who once

befriended me.’

‘Know you then my dear father?’

‘Lady,’ answered Jenkins, in peculiar accents, ‘I have reason to know

him, to be unceasing in my gratitude towards him.’

‘Oh, say, does he still live?’

‘He does!’

‘Heaven receive my thanks!’ cried our heroine, fervently, clasping her

hands, and raising her eyes.

‘Miss de Castro, I will at once inform you the nature of the kindness

your father did me, and you will then see why from being the accomplice

and abetter of Blodget, I have become his enemy and your friend. Some

three years since, I crossed the plains from Missouri. By the time we

had crossed the mountains our teams had given out—our provisions were

exhausted—and many of our people dead. It was at this time that your

father, with a party, met with us, and not only aided us with mules and

provisions, but remained several days attending my children who were

prostrated by fever. It was only during my last visit to the Mission

that I met your father and learned that his name was de Castro, and that

you were his child. I managed to have word conveyed to him that his

daughter was safe, and would soon be restored to his arms. I have now

hastened here to carry you back, and devise means to give Blodget up to

Justice. This cannot be done so speedily or easily as I could wish, for

the villain is master of too many secrets involving perhaps the lives of

members of my band, for me to proceed rashly in the matter. Meanwhile be

cheerful, Alice will remain with you, and in a few days you will be with

your father.’

Inez fervently thanked Jenkins, and throwing herself on her knees poured

out her fervent thanks to that power that had shielded her from outrage

worse than death.

--------------

CHAPTER VIII

The scene we are now about to describe was in a room of a hotel; the

time, five o’clock in the morning—the persons present were Belcher Kay,

Maretzo, and two or three other noisy and dissipated revellers, whose

flushed countenances, blood-shot eyes, and other equally striking

symptoms, showed plainly enough that they had been ‘making a night of

it.’

Kay and the Italian appeared to be the most sober of the company, not

that their potations had been less deep or frequent than their

companions, but that constant practice had so inured them to the wine

cup, that it was long ere they showed any ill-effects from it.

They certainly were particularly noisy and merry, and their companions

lent their aid to the conviviality, by knocking down everything the

aforesaid said or did, in the most tumultuous manner.

One individual, in the classic language of the drunkard, was ‘quite done

up,’ and was stretched at full length upon the floor, under one of the

tables, with his hat for a pillow, and a portion of the carpet for a

coverlid; and every now and then he added to the general tumult by a

loud snore of the most hoggish description.

The proprietor of the hotel had several times requested the party to

_break up_, but as the said party threatened to _break his head_

instead, if he interfered with them, he thought it was best to desist

from his importunities, and after supplying them with enough wine for

the night, he retired to his own chamber, and left them, very

reluctantly, to the indulgence of their noisy revels.

At the time we have thought proper to open this scene, it was, as we

have before stated, about five o’clock in the morning, and the landlord

of the hotel had arisen, and his servants also, and the usual bustle in

such places prevailed, but still the debauchees continued their riotous

mirth, and it appeared as if they had fully made up their minds to make

another day of it, at least.

‘The song, Kay, the song, the song; we will have no excuses;’ shouted

Maretzo.

‘Ay, ay, the song, the song, we will have no excuses;’ chorused three or

four voices, and the man under the table gave a loud snore.

‘Oh, the song, ah! well I don’t mind trying one, just to keep up the

conviviality;’ said Kay, who was seated on rather a high chair, with his

legs negligently deposited on one end of the table, and twiddling a

fine-flavoured cigar in his finger and thumb. ‘The song—let me see—ah,

what shall it be? Oh, I have it—very good I think you will admit.’

And then without any further ceremony, Kay, who had an excellent voice

commenced singing.

The demonstrations of applause that greeted this bacchanalian display,

were of the most uproarious kind, and by the time the companions of

Maretzo and Kay had given full scope to the exuberance of their delight

and approbation, they were one and all ‘done up,’ and one by one dropped

off to sleep, leaving the two above-named gentlemen to the uninterrupted

enjoyment of their own society.

‘Ha! ha! ha!’ laughed Maretzo; ‘they are regularly floored, poor

devils!’

‘Completely finished and done up,’ coincided Kay;—‘ha! ha! ha!’

‘They are not half fellows to be done up with one night’s carouse, poor

devils ha! ha! ha!’ observed Maretzo.

‘Poor weak creatures to be knocked down with a dozen or two of wine; ha!

ha! ha!’ again laughed Kay.

‘Not like you and I, Kay;’ added Maretzo.

‘Not a bit of it.’

‘No comparison.’

‘A loco-foco to the moon.’

‘Half a pint of beer to a pipe of wine.’

‘They cannot stand anything!’

‘Positively nothing!’

‘They’re twaddlers!’

‘Drivellers!’

‘Noodles!’

‘Boobies!’

‘Nincompoops!’

‘Humbugs!’

It may be as well to observe here that these compliments were bestowed

upon the party at large, who had been liberally carousing Maretzo and

Kay, without expecting the latter to pay a cent of the reckoning, and

consequently they may be considered fully entitled to the elegant

epithets that were lavishly bestowed upon them.

‘You and I are the fellows to do it, Maretzo,’ said Kay.

‘Positively the very fellows,’ coincided his friend.

‘We are no skulkers while there is plenty of good wine before us,’ added

Kay.

‘Never think of such a thing.’

‘It would ruin our reputation, if we were known to do such a thing.’

‘And that would be a most melancholy thing.’

‘Positively awful!’

‘We will never let the enemy beat us.’

‘No, d—n!’ returned Spangle;—‘but down with it, down with it, and at it

again.’

‘At it again! Hah! ha! ha!’

‘We are wine proof!’

‘Full proof?’

‘Above proof, by —’

‘But talking about women,’ observed Kay, ‘That Blodget was a devilish

fortunate fellow.’

‘Cunning rogue!’ replied Maretzo; ‘he managed his business famously, and

has contrived admirably to elude the vigilance of Monteagle and the

lady’s friends.’

‘They have not heard anything of them yet, I believe?’

‘Nothing!’

‘Poor Monteagle! Ha! ha!’

‘Ah! poor fool!’

‘I wonder what has become of Monteagle?’

‘Oh, he is doubtless still making every inquiry after the lady.’

‘And it is my firm belief that Inez will never live to see her father,

her lover, or her friends again.’

‘I am of the same opinion; a sensitive, high-minded woman like her, will

never be able to survive long the misery and degradation which Blodget

has heaped upon her.’

‘He positively must be a smart scoundrel.’

‘I never heard of one equal to him.’

‘Such a systematic way as he went to work to accomplish his villainy.’

‘The ingenious and complicated plot he devised to bring about the

gratification of his wishes.’

‘The artful manner in which he contrived to make the simpleton, Jenkins,

his dupe, too; the ready tool to further his deep-laid stratagem.’

‘He must have had his education in the school of art and vice,

certainly.’

‘Yes, and been a ready pupil, too.’

‘But is it not strange that every stratagem has failed to find the

slightest clue to the place of retreat?’

‘Wonderful!’

‘And then the attempt upon Monteagle’s life.’

‘Doubtless by some ruffian employed by him.’

‘There cannot be a doubt of it.’

‘To be sure. Revenge has incited him to it.’

‘He is a dangerous fellow to offend.’

‘A very devil.’

‘At any rate, he does not fail to play the very devil with those who

excite his enmity.’

‘True.’

‘But he must be defeated at last.’

‘Certainly there is not much prospect of it at present.’

‘Oh, no doubt he will be caught in some of his own snares by and bye.’

‘But do you think he has ruined the girl?’

‘He is villain enough for anything.’

‘He must be a monster, indeed, if he could perpetrate such a crime as

that. I must have another glass of wine.’

‘Do you think that he who did not hesitate to attempt the life of the

father, and the violation of the daughter, would shrink from any thing.’

‘But, then, her youth—her innocence.’

‘Psha!—he is a stranger to such feelings as they ought to inspire.’

‘Why, to be sure, from his general conduct, we have an undoubted right

to suppose that he is.’

‘And yet I think that he has had some other motive for getting the girl

in his power; that he has found her necessary to advance his base

schemes.’

There was a pause.

‘But that Blodget is really a most terrible fellow,’ said Kay.

‘Every stratagem, every scheme of rascality, I do believe, that that

rascal of rascals is up to.’

‘Positively every scheme,’ said Maretzo, ‘but this is a dry subject, and

I must have another glass of wine.’

‘I feel to want one myself, too,’ observed Kay, filling his glass from

the decanter: ‘Well, here’s wishing that Blodget may soon be here.’

‘And Inez restored to her lover and friends,’ exclaimed Maretzo.

‘Quite safe.’

‘Quite safe,’ repeated Kay.

‘And yet I am afraid there is not much chance of that.’

‘Nor I.’

‘Leave that consummate scoundrel, Blodget, alone for that.’

‘Ay, ay.’

‘He would not fail to enforce his wishes.’

‘To be sure he would not.’

‘And what resistance could she make?’

‘None at all.’

‘She is so completely in his power.’

‘Completely.’

‘Without a friend at hand to fly to her rescue.’

‘Not a friend; and besides no one knows, or can form the least

conjecture whither he has taken her.’

‘Not the least shadow of an idea,’ said Kay.

‘Any person would positively imagine that the fellow had some dealings

with the devil,’ added Maretzo, ‘and that she was conveyed away by

magic.’

‘That they certainly would,’ observed Kay.

‘I would not mind a hundred dollars to know where the fellow is.’

‘Why, that would be rather awkward, I imagine, Maretzo,’ returned Kay,

with an expressive grin.

‘Ha! ha!’ laughed Maretzo, clapping his hand significantly to his

pocket; ‘finances rather queer, you think? Ha! ha! ha! I understand!’

‘Funds low.’

‘Ha! ha! ha!’

‘It is not a very laughable matter though.’

‘Very unpleasant.’

‘To be straightened for a few hundreds.’

‘Very disagreeable.’

‘And people have no faith in the word and honor of gentlemen,

now-a-days.’

‘But we must do something to raise the wind.’

‘That is very evident.’

‘Quite certain.’

‘Quite.’

‘We must make good use of these boobies,’ said Kay.

‘To be sure. Leave us alone for that,’ replied Maretzo.

‘Oh, yes, I am certain of that.’

‘They are very easy.’

‘Poor devils.’

‘Fit sport for us.’

‘Just the sort of game we like to hunt,’ returned Maretzo.

‘They have got a few thousands, which they seem bent upon wasting.’

‘And we might as well reap the benefit as any other persons.’

‘To be sure.’

‘And we will too.’

‘Oh, there is not the least doubt of that; ha! ha! ha!’

‘By the by, we ought not to feel much obliged to Blodget for that

affair—’

‘No, that was a d—d bore.’

‘Remarkably unpleasant.’

‘A few hundreds out of our way.’

‘Yes.’

‘We have mingled in some strange scenes together.’

‘You may say that.’

‘We have been in luck together.’

‘In debt together.’

‘In prison together.’

‘Damme! we have shared all the smiles and frowns of fortune, and may we

soon be on more friendly terms with her than ever.’

‘Bravo!’

The two friends quaffed off glass after glass, with as much gusto as if

they had only just commenced a night’s carouse; and then each crossing

their legs in an indolent and careless manner, remained silent for a

short time. The sleepers were snoring in concert, and did not seem

likely to awake for some time, but to monopolize the coffee-room for a

chamber, for that day at least.

After the lapse of a short interval, Maretzo looked up with an

expression of countenance, half solemn, and half humorous, and,

addressing himself to Kay, says:

‘Kay, my boy!’

‘Well, my dear fellow,’ said Kay.

‘I have been thinking, Kay.’

‘And what have you been thinking?’ interrogated his dissipated

companion.

‘Why, that we have been a pair of d—d scoundrels!’

‘Ha! ha! ha! what a discovery!—why, I have known and felt that long ago,

Maretzo,’ returned Kay.

‘We have taken that which did not belong to us,’ added Maretzo, ‘and

borrowed that which we never repaid.’

‘And never meant to repay;’ observed Kay, with a laugh.

‘We have diddled our tailor; broken the fortunes, and the hearts of

innumerable bootmakers, hatters, frizzeurs, laundresses, and other

creditors.’

‘Very true,’ remarked Kay, ‘and we are likely enough to break the hearts

of a great many more, if they are silly enough to trust us.’

‘Ah!’ ejaculated Maretzo, and he fetched a very deep sigh, reflectively.

‘Ah!’ mimicked Kay; ‘why, confound me, if you are not getting

melancholy.’

‘I am becoming penitent,’ replied Maretzo, in a tone still half serious,

‘I am becoming penitent, Kay.’

‘Penitent!’

‘Yes, downright compunctious.’

‘Ha! ha! ha!’

‘Don’t laugh, I feel a touch of the serious,’ remarked Maretzo, ‘I think

it is high time that we began to think about a reformation, Kay.’

‘Well, positively.’

‘Ah! it may be well, positively,’ repeated Maretzo, ‘and, positively, I

wish it to be well.’

‘And what is your plan of reformation?’ inquired Kay.

‘Why, matrimony.’

‘Matrimony?’

‘Ay, sober wedlock,’ answered Maretzo, ‘it would be advisable for us to

do the steady and the amiable for some time, until we can meet with a

favorable match; a handsome sum in the shape of a wedding dowry, and a

handsome wife, and then we may settle down into two worthy gentlemen,

very patterns of domesticated virtue.’

‘Not a bad plan,’ said Kay, smiling, ‘but it is almost too soon to think

about that, yet.’

‘Not at all.’

‘That is only your opinion.’

‘And I have no doubt, as we have hitherto generally agreed, that it will

be your opinion also.’

‘I cannot make up my mind to be shackled just yet, my dear fellow,’

replied Kay.

‘Nonsense, you may let the opportunity go by, and then you would repent

it, take my word for it.’

‘Probably, I might,’ said Kay, ‘but I shall e’en trust fortune a little

while longer.’

‘But fortune will not trust you—we owe her too large an account

already,’ observed Maretzo.

‘But I am determined to jilt the jade still further, yet.’

‘Mind you do not deceive yourself.’

‘Leave me alone for that.’

‘After all, if a pretty girl, with a handsome portion is thrown in your

way, I do not fear but that I shall be able to make you a convert.’

‘Well, we’ll leave that till the opportunity offers itself.’

‘Be it so.’

‘But you are really serious?’

‘Cursed serious.’

‘Ha, ha, ha! we must have another glass of wine after that,’ laughed

Kay, ‘here’s fortune and matrimony.’

‘Fortune and matrimony,’ responded Maretzo, raising the glass to his

lips; and then another pause of a few minutes took place.

‘I have been thinking, Kay,’ at length Maretzo broke silence, ‘that,

after all, the whereabouts of Blodget, and Inez may not be so difficult

for Monteagle to trace out as hitherto it has proved.’

At this, the door opened, and the landlord entered, saying that a man

wished to speak to Kay.

‘Tell him to come in. Who the deuce can it be?’ said Kay.

‘Doubtless one of our fellows,’ said Maretzo.

The man now entered.

‘Well,’ said Kay. ‘I’m the person you asked for.’

The visitor went to the door, and turned the key. He then said, in a low

tone, ‘Is your companion to be trusted?’

‘True as steel,’ said Kay.

‘Blodget is in trouble and needs your assistance. He is at Gordon’s

house.—Jenkins has informed on him, and he can’t leave the house without

almost certain death. He wishes you and a person he called Maretzo, to

be there to-night. With your aid he can get off, carrying the lady with

him. He says he won’t mind a couple of thousand, if you can get him out

of this scrape.’

‘Now, my good fellow, how do we know that this isn’t all gas. A trap,

may be?’ said Kay.

‘He told me to tell you, if you doubted me, to remember _the old man in

the old house_!’

Kay started, but quickly recovering himself said, ‘All right, we’ll be

on hand.’

The man left the house, and mounting his horse rode to the Mission. At a

small house near the church he found Joaquin, by whom he was conducted

to Jenkins, who was in company with Monteagle and some Californians,

friends of Inez and her family.

The party speedily set off across the country towards the house where

Inez was confined. But speedy as they were, they found they had been

anticipated by Kay and Maretzo, who had set off to aid Blodget the

instant the man had left. On arriving at the house they knocked boldly

at the door. Gordon opened it, but upon seeing who the visitors were he

attempted to slam it in their faces, but ere he succeeded a long Spanish

knife was driven to his heart by Maretzo, and the wretch fell a bleeding

corpse on the floor. Blodget was soon released.

‘Bear a-hand,’ cried Kay. ‘We must be out of this d—d quick. If Jenkins

or any of his gang arrive, we’re gone chickens.’

‘One moment,’ cried Blodget. ‘I’ll have this d—d stubborn Spanish b—h if

I have to carry her corpse across my saddle!’ as he spoke he sprang up

stairs.

Alice had overheard what passed for she was sitting by Inez’s bedside

watching her slumbers.

The brave girl instantly determined to save Inez, even at peril of her

own life.

She extinguished the light, and throwing the veil of Inez over her head,

and her mantle over her shoulders, she stood with beating heart, as she

heard the villain Blodget’s steps upon the stairs.

‘Inez!’ cried the ruffian, as he opened the door of the chamber.

‘Who calls me?’ said Alice, imitating the voice of Inez.

The ruffian made no reply, but seizing her shrinking form in his arms,

he bore her to the front of the ranch, where Kay and Maretzo stood ready

to mount, holding a spare horse that they had brought to facilitate

Blodget’s escape. The ruffian sprang to his horse’s back, dragging Alice

up before, and dashing the rowels into his horse’s flanks, flew off at

full speed, followed by Kay and Maretzo.

They had not been gone many moments, ere Jenkins, Monteagle, and their

friends arrived. The bloody body of Gordon, which first arrested their

attention at the threshold, filled them with dreadful forebodings.

Lights were procured, and Monteagle sought the chamber in which he was

told he would find Inez. He burst into the room. A lady lay on the bed.

‘Inez!’ he shouted.

The lady turned her head, and his eyes fell upon her countenance!

‘Gracious Heaven!’ he almost shrieked; ‘is this some beauteous vision

got up to torture me to madness? Inez!—My Inez!’

A wild shriek answered him!—It was no delusion! He sprang forward with

delirious speed, just time enough to clasp the fainting form of his

long-lost betrothed in his arms!

How shall our weak pen essay the task to describe the scene which

followed this strange, this unexpected meeting?

Insensible, Inez was conveyed to an apartment in the cabaret, whither

Monteagle followed, and could not be persuaded to leave her sight for an

instant.

Again and again he enfolded her in his arms; pressed warm kisses on her

lips, her cheeks, her temples, and laughed and wept like a child, by

turns!—Then he threw himself upon his knees, clasps his hands vehemently

together, and poured forth an eloquent prayer to the most High!

Joaquin began to entertain a fear that the sudden surprise, and so

powerful a shock as it must be to his feelings, would have a fatal

effect upon his senses; and he did all that he possibly could to calm

his emotions.

His efforts were, however, for some time unavailing, but at length he

became more tranquilized, and resigning Inez to the care of the persons

who had been called in to attend her, he sank into a chair, and covering

his face with his hands, gave full vent to the emotions that overflowed

his heart, in a copious flood of tears.

Joaquin in this did not attempt to interrupt him, for he well knew what

a relief it would be to him, and he turned his eyes from Monteagle to

watch the progress which was being made towards the recovery of Inez.

His joy was scarcely less than that of Monteagle, although it did not

exhibit itself in so violent a manner, and his heart teemed with

gratitude to the Almighty, who had brought about their restoration to

each other in so miraculous a manner.

It was not long before Inez was restored to animation; and, looking

eagerly around her, she exclaimed:—

‘Where is he?—Was it a dream?—Oh, where is Monteagle?’

‘He is here, my love, my long lost one!—My only hope!’ cried Monteagle,

and again they were enfolded to each other’s hearts, while further

utterance was denied them by the power of their emotions!

We must hastily draw a veil over that scene which the imagination of our

readers can depicture far better than any language of ours, however

powerful, we could describe it!

Those moments were a foretaste of Heaven, succeeding the torment of

purgatory! Their extacy was so great, that they could scarcely believe

the evidence of their senses. It was some time ere they could satisfy

themselves that they spoke, they breathed, or that they were still

inhabitants of this sublunary scene!

But when, by the joint efforts of Joaquin and others, they became more

tranquilized, the scene which followed was affecting in the extreme.

They rested for a few hours, as they were not sufficiently composed to

resume their journey to that home in which they had not together met for

so long a period, and where they had never expected to meet again; and

their friends, after a short time, left them to themselves, to enter

into that mutual explanation, they were each so anxious to obtain.

With what feelings of horror, disgust, and indignation, did Monteagle

listen to the recital of his love, but how did his heart overflow with

gratitude, when he heard of the manner in which Inez had been enabled to

resist the diabolical attempts and importunities of the villain Blodget;

and as he pressed her to his heart, he again poured forth his thanks to

the Almighty for her preservation from such accumulated and fearful

dangers.

‘The monster! the fiend!—for he cannot be anything human, although he

bears the form of man,’ cried Monteagle, speaking of Blodget; ‘oh, how I

regret that he has been suffered to escape my vengeance!’

‘But he will not that of Heaven, dearest,’ ejaculated Inez; ‘oh, most

assuredly that will ere long overtake him in its most terrible form, for

the many, the almost unequalled crimes of which he has been guilty!’

‘True, my love,’ returned Monteagle, and his eyes sparkled with rapture

as he gazed upon that dear countenance he had never expected to behold

again; ‘and oh, if ever atrocity deserved punishment, dreadful will be

his doom. To concoct so infernal a plot, by which he tore you from my

arms.’

Inez smiled beautifully through her tears, and throwing her fair arms

around the neck of Monteagle, the kisses she so fervently pressed upon

his lips, convinced him powerfully of her affection.

‘Say no more upon that painful subject, my dearest,’ she ejaculated;

‘let it from this joyful moment be for ever buried in oblivion.’

‘It shall, it shall, my sweetest,’ replied Monteagle; ‘but oh, what a

debt of gratitude do I owe to your generous preserver, Jenkins. Would

that I could see him, that I might to himself express the power of my

feelings. Nothing can ever sufficiently reward that man for the

inestimable service he has rendered me.’

‘I need not assure you,’ rejoined Inez, ‘that I most warmly concur in

your feelings; and I trust that at some future period, Jenkins may be

able to visit us, and receive the demonstrations of our mutual

gratitude, and, moreover, be persuaded to quit the life he is at present

leading.’

‘Pity it is that he should, by some cursed fatality urging him on to

crime, be driven from it,’ observed Monteagle; ‘but I dare say that his

offences have never been so heinous as to exclude him from all hope of

earthly pardon.’

‘No, I cannot believe that they have,’ replied Inez; ‘but he is so much

attached to his present wild life of freedom, and his reckless

associates, that I am doubtful whether he will ever be induced to

abandon them.’

‘My influence and exertions to induce him to do so, shall not be

wanting,’ said Monteagle. ‘Still I am sorry that he should have changed

his first determination, namely, to deliver the wretch Blodget into the

hands of justice. While I know that villain to be living and still at

large, my mind cannot be entirely at rest, for, however watchful and

vigilant we may be, after what we have experienced from his villainous

artifices, have we not reason to fear that he will devise some means of

further annoying us, and gratifying his demonical revenge?’

‘Do not, I beg of you, my love,’ said our heroine, ‘harass your mind by

apprehensions.’

‘Heaven grant that your surmises may prove correct, Inez,’ observed

Monteagle; ‘but I candidly own that I cannot entirely divest my mind of

the fears which I have described; and should anything happen again to

you, my love, all my manly fortitude would entirely forsake me, and I

should never be able to survive the shock!’

‘Pray, Monteagle,’ urged Inez, ‘if you would not make me miserable,

endeavor, struggle to banish such gloomy imaginings from your bosom, and

trust to the goodness of Providence which has hitherto so mercifully

preserved us, when the darkest snares of villainy sought to ruin and

destroy us.’

‘For your sake, my own love,’ replied Monteagle, once more

affectionately and passionately kissing her cheek, ‘I will endeavor to

do so; still you surely will not blame me for not placing too much

confidence in our security, which might prevent me from being watchful

and wary to defeat any base plans that might be devised against our

future peace?’

‘Oh, no, in that you will only act with prudence and wisdom, although, I

must repeat that I sincerely trust there will not be found to be any

necessity for that precaution. But my poor father—what of him?’

‘He is well in body.’

‘But how has he supported my absence?’

‘Oh, he suffered terribly.’

‘Did he give himself up to grief?’

‘At first he did—he was as one struck to the earth by a sudden, violent

blow. Joaquin, however, roused him from his despondency, by urging the

absolute necessity of pursuing the abductors. Thus urged, your father

shook off his despondency, and appearing to forget his years, joined in

the search for your abductors with all the ardor of youth. Indeed it

became almost necessary forcibly to restrain him, lest he should become

totally deranged.’

‘_Totally_ deranged! Then his mind was affected by my loss?’

‘Oh, my love,’ ejaculated Monteagle, ‘Would that heaven had spared me

that painful task; but pray be calm and bear the melancholy intelligence

with fortitude and resignation.’

‘Speak on, speak on; I’m prepared for the worst,’ ejaculated our

heroine— ‘Tell me of my poor father.’

‘When I left your home the physicians hoped he might recover, as at

intervals reason seemed returning, when he would call for his daughter

Inez, and then relapse into unconsciousness.’

‘Oh, let us hasten to my poor dear father.’

They were soon in their saddles, and on road to the Mission.

--------------

CHAPTER XIX

The Seducer’s Terrible End.

A few nights after Blodget’s escape found him walking the streets of San

Francisco, but disguised as he thought too effectually to be recognized

by any eye, however sharp.

There was a cloud upon Blodget’s brow as he emerged from the court into

the semi-obscurity of Montgomery street, and his mind was evidently ill

at ease. He tried to hum a fashionable opera air when he had walked a

little distance, but there seemed something in his throat which choked

him, and the sounds died upon his lips. Then he quickened his pace, when

a young female emerged from a street which he was passing, and laid her

hand upon his arm. He turned his head, and beheld Carlotta.

She was thinner than when he had seen her last, and looked as if she had

recently been ill; but her dark eyes were as lustrous as then, and there

was the same gloss upon her raven hair. At the moment that she emerged

from the shade of the court, and laid her hand upon his, there was a

strange and almost indescribable expression upon her dark countenance,

but it passed away as quickly as a flight of birds over a stream, and

when Blodget’s eyes met hers, they read nothing therein but pleasure at

meeting him again.

‘Ah, my little wild rose of the islands!’ said he, ‘what are you doing

at this hour of the night, when all such pretty wild birds should be in

their nests.’

‘Well, I can’t say I was looking for you,’ returned Carlotta, ‘but I am

glad that I have met you, nevertheless. But I should ask you where you

have been wandering, you naughty man?’

‘Oh, I have been to the theatre, and then walked this way with a

friend,’ returned Blodget. ‘But where are you staying—can you take me

home with you?’

‘Fie!’ said Carlotta, playfully.

‘I really cannot part with you, my charmer,’ said Blodget. ‘If you

cannot take me to your quarters, wherever they may be, you must come

somewhere with me.’

‘You must not think of going where my people are,’ observed the Chilean

girl, ‘remember how near the detection of our amour was costing our

lives.’

‘Then come with me, my beauty,’ said Blodget. ‘There is a house not far

from here which will suit our purpose, and I shall not part with you

until daylight.’

‘Then I go with you, Blodget,’ said Carlotta. ‘Promise me that you will

not seek to detain me more than an hour, and I will not refuse you the

happiness you covet.’

Blodget promised, and the Chilean girl accompanied him to an

accommodation-house in the neighborhood, where they were conducted to a

neatly furnished bedchamber on the first floor.

‘We shall have time to drink a bottle of champagne in the hour that you

have promised to remain with me,’ observed Blodget, and he gave the

girl, who had preceded them with a light, some silver to procure it.

They sat down, and Blodget threw his arm round the waist of his

dark-eyed companion, and drawing her towards him, impressed a kiss upon

her lips. She smiled upon him, but her lips did not give back the kiss,

and there was a glitter in her night dark eyes at the moment which was

not the radiance which springs from happiness or love. Blodget, however,

failed to detect anything unusual or peculiar in the expression of that

glance. The wine was brought, and placed upon a small round table

convenient to Blodget’s hand, and he filled the glasses, handing one to

Carlotta and taking one himself.

‘The sparkling juice will bring back to your dark cheeks a glow that

seems wanting there,’ said he, as he sat down the glasses and

immediately refilled them.

‘Come, drink,’ he cried.

‘It will be the last time we’ll drink together.’

‘Why, what the deuce makes you think so?’ said Blodget.

‘I don’t know,’ replied the girl, ‘but I have said it, and you’ll see if

it don’t come to pass.’

‘D—d nonsense,’ cried Blodget, laughing, and then he drew his companion

on his knee, and kissed her repeatedly and eagerly.

Carlotta was silent, but she reclined her dark cheek against her

seducer’s, and quietly and adroitly drew from her pocket a little phial

containing some liquid. Concealing the phial in her hand, she then threw

her arm over Blodget’s shoulder, and noiselessly drawing the tiny cork,

poured the contents of the phial into his glass.

‘Another glass of champagne, my glow-worm,’ said Blodget, ‘and the soft

delights of love, the thrilling joys of warm and impassioned nature are

ours.’

Carlotta removed her arm from his shoulder as he turned slightly to

reach his wine, and while she kept her eyes upon the glasses to observe

that he gave her the one that she had drank from before, she returned

the empty phial to her pocket.

‘I suppose nothing unpleasant came of our dalliance?’ said Blodget, in a

half interrogative tone, as he handed the girl her glass.

‘Why do you suppose so? Ought you not rather to suppose just the

reverse? Was not something unpleasant naturally to be expected?’

‘Well, perhaps I might have supposed so,’ returned Blodget,

deprecatingly, and a little disconcerted by the girl’s reply.

There was a moment’s pause, and both sat with their glasses in their

hands, Blodget’s eyes fixed upon the floor, the girl surveying the

countenance of her seducer, as if she were trying to read his thoughts.

‘Well, what was it?’ Blodget at length inquired.

‘A boy,’ returned Carlotta. ‘It died, and I was glad of it, for if it

had lived it might have been as faithless as his father.’

‘Do you want to quarrel?’

‘No.’

‘For heaven’s sake cease,’ exclaimed Blodget, suddenly raising the

wineglass to his lips, and emptying it at a draught.

Carlotta drank her wine quickly as he spoke, and rose from his knee,

where she had contrived to sit while upbraiding him with his inconstancy

and duplicity. Her dark eyes were fixed upon his countenance, which

changed the moment he had swallowed the wine, his lips becoming white,

and the expression of his features becoming ghastly and cadaverous.

‘You are a dead man and I am avenged!’ exclaimed the girl in a hissing

whisper; and then she glided towards the door, and turned the key in the

lock.

A faint groan which seemed to struggle feebly and faintly upwards, was

the only sign of vitality which Blodget gave, and then his head fell

upon his breast and his arms fell powerless at his side.

Quickly and silently Carlotta drew the sheets from the bed, knotted them

together, and then fastened one end securely to the bedpost nearest the

window; this done, she noiselessly raised the sash, and looked out. The

night was dark and foggy, but she could see that there was a small yard

below, with a door in the wall, which opened into a court at the rear of

the house. Dropping one end of the sheets from the window, she

immediately got out upon the sill, and grasping the sheet firmly with

both hands, descended in safety into the yard. She could hear laughter

and the tinkling of glasses in the back parlor, but the shutters were

closed, and noiselessly unbolting the door in the yard fence, she

hurried swiftly out, and in a few minutes was far away.

--------------

CHAPTER XX

The Return to the Mission.

Let us now rejoin Inez and Monteagle whom we left on their road to the

Mission.

What powerful sensations of unspeakable delight rushed through the veins

of Inez, and monopolized every feeling of her heart, when those scenes

which she had never expected to behold again, once more burst upon her

vision. The tumult of rapturous and conflicting ideas that darted to her

brain, were almost overwhelming, and, although her tongue was eager to

give expression to her sentiments, the strength of her emotions would

not permit her to give utterance to a single syllable. She looked in the

countenance of her lover with an expression of the most unbounded

affection and delight, and she fully perceived that he reciprocated her

feelings. Tears filled his eyes, and taking her hand he pressed it to

his lips with eloquent silence.

Not the slightest change appeared to have taken place in everything upon

which the eyes of our heroine rested, since last she had gazed upon

those well known scenes. The bright beams of a silvery moon were shining

serenely upon every thing around, and a melancholy silence, so consonant

with her own state of mind, prevailed. But, alas, she reflected, what a

change had taken place in the home of her childhood! That home which had

once abounded in every happiness that the human mind could wish for, was

now the abode of sorrow; that fond parent, whose every joy and hope were

centered in her, was a maniac and would be insensible to the felicity of

her restoration to his arms.

This last thought was too afflicting for endurance, and overcome by her

emotion she leant her head upon the bosom of Monteagle, and burst into

an hysterical flood of tears.

In vain did Monteagle endeavor to tranquilize her feelings, he felt how

powerful was the cause she had for sorrow, and the anguish he endured

was scarcely less than her own.

Joaquin exerted himself to the utmost to calm the feelings of them both,

and he at length succeeded.

Monteagle, we should have mentioned before, had taken the precaution to

send forward a person to the Mission, with a letter, making them briefly

acquainted with the fortunate meeting which had taken place between him

and our heroine, and of their coming, so that the surprise might not be

too sudden for them; and they were, therefore, fully aware that they

would exert themselves to the utmost to meet the unexpected pleasure

which awaited them; the more especially as the precarious and lamentable

situation of Senor de Castro rendered the greatest care necessary.

At length the elegant, but unostentatious, mansion, burst upon their

vision, and Providence imbued the mind of Inez with a calm feeling of

joy, which she had never experienced before. Everything seemed to dance

before her eyes to welcome her return to that once happy home, and the

horses appeared to move with the most tedious slowness, as they cantered

along the road which led to the garden gates.

They reached those gates; they were already open, and standing to

receive them were beings endeared to them by every affectionate and

grateful feeling.

Let not the too presumptuous pen attempt to describe the scene which

followed, language is by far too weak to convey any idea of it. Tears,

sobs, and broken sentences of unbounded transport, burst from the

overcharged bosoms of each individual; and then Inez felt herself led

along the avenue which conducted to the hall.

Although her eyes were dimmed by tears, and her thoughts were so fully

occupied, our heroine could yet behold several of the old domestics

standing in the path, who, as she passed, raised their hands and eyes

towards Heaven, and gave utterance to their simple, but forcible,

exclamations of gratitude to the Most High for the restoration of their

‘dear young lady’ to her home and friends.

Another moment and Inez found herself in the well known parlor, endeared

to her by so many fond remembrances and associations; and sinking on her

knees, she clasped her hands fervently towards Heaven, and gave full

vent to the expression of her ardent and spontaneous ejaculations of

thanksgiving to the Almighty disposer of all events for her deliverance.

No one offered to interrupt her, they were also too much occupied with

the feelings of astonishment and unspeakable delight that filled their

bosoms. But at length, Inez having ended her solemn prayer, suddenly

arose from her knees, and looking eagerly around the room, she said:

‘But where is he? He is not here! Where is the poor old man—that he is

not present to snatch his unfortunate daughter once more to his heart,

and weep his tears of joy upon her bosom! My father—my poor, dear

father; where is he?’

‘My dear Inez,’ replied the Padre; ‘I can fully appreciate the anxiety

of your feelings; but pray endeavor to restrain them. Your father has

retired to his chamber and sleeps—do not disturb him lest—’

‘And think you,’ interrupted our heroine, with the most violent emotion

depicted in her countenance; ‘think you that I can rest calmly one

moment without beholding that unfortunate, that doting parent from whom

I have been so long and so cruelly separated? No—no—no—I will go to him;

not an instant—’

Quickly up the stairs which led to the well known chamber of her father,

our heroine bounded, but when she arrived at the door, she paused; a

deathlike faintness came over her, she breathed short, and she was

unable to move a step further.

Monteagle and others entreated her to return to the parlor, and to defer

the trying scene till the morning, but she answered them by a look which

fully convinced them of her determination, and they therefore desisted.

In a few moments she partially recovered herself, but still she had not

sufficient courage or resolution to enter the chamber.

She stood and listened, supported by the arm of her lover, and her ears

caught the sound of the breathing of the patient, every respiration

going to her heart like a stream of fire.

In a moment the breathing sounds ceased, and all was still as death.

‘He sleeps, he sleeps, and probably dreams of her who—’

‘Hark! hark!’ hastily interrupted our heroine; ‘those sounds—do

listen;—those words—those words—my heart will burst!’

They listened with breathless attention, and Monteagle supported the

form of Inez, in a state of agony too powerful for description. In low

and plaintive tones, sufficient to draw tears from the eyes of the most

insensible individual, the unfortunate de Castro was singing, apparently

in his sleep, the words of a song Inez had so often sung to please him,

and which brought to the memory many powerful and agonizing

recollections.

‘God! God! support me!’ gasped forth Inez, clinging to the arm of her

lover, and her whole frame convulsed with anguish.

‘Father! father! dear, dear father! I can bear no more,’ cried Inez; and

tearing herself from the hold of Monteagle, she rushed into the chamber,

and darted to the side of the bed.

Senor de Castro was sitting up in the bed when Inez entered the room,

and was staring vacantly around him. His countenance had undergone

little or no perceptible change; the ruddy glow of health was on his

cheeks, and so calm and serene was its expression, that it seemed almost

impossible that his mind could be in the deplorable condition in which

it was.

On beholding Inez and the others enter, he exhibited emotion, but when

his eyes rested upon the former, a sweet smile irradiated his features,

and laughing with all the joyousness of a child, he exclaimed:—

‘Beautiful!—oh, how beautiful!—what a bright and lovely vision!—Her very

self!—So like her!—But ’tis only fancy—only fancy—ha! ha! ha!—How

beautiful!’

‘Father! father!—dear, dear father! Do you not know me? Oh, God! what a

bitter trial is this!’ frantically sobbed forth the distracted Inez, as

she threw her arms around the poor old man’s neck, and pressed warm and

delirious kisses upon his lips.

In a few moments Senor de Castro began to regain his scattered senses,

and gazed round him like one slowly awaking from a fearful dream.

He at length fully recognized his child. Then followed a scene too

affecting for pen or pencil to describe.

But one subject remained to cloud their happiness. It was the absence of

Alice Hewlett, of whose abduction, by Blodget, they learned from the old

woman at the ranch. Bitterly did Inez deplore the sad fate which had

befallen the lovely ‘Squatter’s Daughter.’

Brown fled upon hearing of the arrest of the gang.

Monteagle was of course cleared of all complicity in the robbery of the

store, by this confession, and Mr. Vandewater gave him a share in his

business as some recompense for his unjust dismissal.

The little church at the Mission was soon after gaily decorated, and

before its humble altar the hands of Inez and Monteagle were united.

Their hearts had been so from the day our hero bore the fainting maiden

in safety from the flames.

THE END.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

● Transcriber’s Notes:

○ Some chapters are not numbered sequentially. They left as they

were printed.

○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected.

○ Typographical errors were silently corrected (capitalization,

spaces inside words, incorrect hyphenation, duplicated words) were

silently corrected.

○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only

when a predominant form was found in this book.

○ Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).

The Mysteries and Miseries of San Francisco Showing up all the various characters and notabilities, (both in high and low life) that have figured in San Franciso since its settlement. · 第 11 / 11 章

‘Why,’ returned Blodget, ‘in the first place, the sudden shock might be