"I watched the carriage until it turned a bend in the road, and then,making a sign to Mortimer to follow me, led the way into the woods.Pursuing a path which the moonlight just enabled me to perceive, Ipenetrated the forest; went on for about ten minutes; and finallyemerged upon a plateau, in the swampy undergrowth near which stood theruins of an old chimney.
"This chimney had served to indicate the spot to Nighthawk; and, beforeus, in the moonlight, was the evidence that he had found it. In thecentre of the plateau was a newly dug grave--and in front of it Ipaused.
"'We have arrived,' I said.
"Mortimer gazed at the grave with a grim smile.
"'That is a dreary and desolate object,' he said.
"'It will soon be inhabited,' I returned; 'and the issue of this combatis indifferent to me, since in either event I shall be dead.'
"'Ah!' he exclaimed, 'explain that.'
"'Then you do not understand! You think this duel will end every thing?You deceive yourself! A family history like mine does not terminate witha duel. Have you read those tragedies where everybody is killed?--wherenot a single one of the _dramatis personae_ escapes? Well, this is goingto be a drama of that exact description. Do you wish to save that woman,yonder? To do so, you must kill _me_. I tell you that to warn you to doyour best, sir!'
"Mortimer glared at me. It is hard to imagine a glance more sinister.
"'So you have arranged the whole affair?' he said; 'there is to be awholesale killing.'
"'Yes.'
"'You are going to kill--_her_?'
"'Yes.'
"'Yourself, too?'
"'Yes.'
"Mortimer's smile became more sinister, as he raised his foil.
"'Take your position, sir,' he said; 'I am going to save you the lattertrouble.'
"I grasped my weapon, and placed myself on guard.
"In an instant he had thrown himself upon me with a fury which indicatedthe profound passion under his assumed coolness. His eyes blazed; hislips writhed into something like a deadly grin; I felt that I had tocontend rather with a wild animal than a man. The grave yawned inthe moonlight at our very feet, and Mortimer closed in, with fury,endeavoring to force me to its brink, and hurl me into it.
"Ten minutes afterward the combat was over; and it was Mortimer whooccupied the grave.
"He had given ground an instant, to breathe; had returned to the attackmore furiously than before; a tremendous blow of his weapon snapped myown, eighteen inches from the hilt; but this had probably saved my lifeinstead of destroying it, as Mortimer, from his fierce exclamation asthe blade broke, evidently expected.
"Before he could take advantage of his success, I sprang at his throat,grasped his sword-arm with my left hand, and, shortening my stump of aweapon, drove the point through his breast.
"He uttered a cry, staggered, and threw up his hands; I released myclutch on his arm; and he fell heavily backward into the grave.
"'Now to end all,' I said, and I set out rapidly for Fonthill."
XXV.
GOING TO REJOIN MORTIMER.
"I had not gone a hundred yards, when I heard the sound of wheelsapproaching.
"I had said to myself, 'I am going back to madam; she will hear myfootsteps upon the staircase; will open the door; will rush forward toembrace me, under the impression that I am her dear Mortimer, returningtriumphant from the field of battle; and then a grand tableau!' Thingswere destined to turn out differently, as you will see in an instant.
"The sound of wheels grew louder; a carriage appeared; and I recognizedmy own chariot.
"'Why have you disobeyed my orders?' I said to the old gray-haireddriver, arresting the horses as I spoke, by violently grasping thebridles.
"The old coachman looked frightened. Then he said, in an agitatedvoice:--
"'Madam ordered me to obey her, sir.'
"'Madam?'
"'Yes, sir.'
"'Where is she?'
"'In the carriage, sir. As soon as I got back, she came down to thedoor--ordered me to drive her to _you_--and I was obliged to do so,sir.'
"'Good,' I said, 'you have done well.'
And opening the door of the carriage, through the glass of which Isaw the pale face of the woman, I entered it, directing the coachman todrive to the 'Hicksford Crossing.'
A hoarse, but defiant voice at my side said:--
"'Where is Mr. Mortimer?'
"'Gone over the river,' I said, laughing, 'and we are going, too.'
"'To rejoin him?'
"'Yes, madam.'
"The carriage had rolled on, and as it passed the grave I heard a groan.
"'What is that?' said she.
"'The river is groaning over yonder, madam.'
"'You will not attempt to pass it to-night?'
"'Yes, madam. Are you afraid?'
"She looked at me with fiery eyes.
"'Afraid? No!' she said, 'I am afraid of nothing!'
"I really admired her at that moment. She was truly brave. I saidnothing, however. The carriage rolled on, and ten minutes afterward theroar of the river, now near at hand, was heard. That sound mingled withthe deep bellowing of the thunder, which succeeded the dazzling flashesat every instant dividing the darkness.
"All at once my companion said:--
"'I am tired of this--where is Mr. Mortimer?'
"'He awaits us,' I replied.
"'You are going to him?'
"'Yes.'
"We had reached the bank of the river, and, stopping the carriage, Isprung out. Madam followed me, without being invited. A small boat roseand fell on the swollen current. I detached the chain, seized a paddle,and pointed to the stern seat.
"'The river is dangerous to-night,' said madam, coldly.
"'Then you are afraid, after all?'
"'No!' she said.
"And with a firm step she entered the boat.
"'Go back with the carriage,' I said to the driver. He turned the headsof the horses, and obeyed in silence.
"Madam had taken her seat in the stern of the boat. I pushed from shoreinto the current, and paddling rapidly to the middle of the foamingtorrent, filled with drift-wood, threw the paddle overboard, and took myseat in the stern.
"As I threw away the paddle, my resolution seemed to dawn for the firsttime upon my companion. She had become deadly pale, but said nothing.With folded arms, I looked and listened; we were nearing a narrow androck-studded point in the river, where there was no hope.
"The frail boat was going to be overturned there, or dashed to pieceswithout mercy. I knew the spot--knew that there was no hope. The torrentwas roaring and driving the boat like a leaf toward the jagged and fatalrocks.
"'Then you are going to kill me and yourself at the same time!' shesaid.
"The woman was fearless.
"'Yes,' I said, 'it is the only way. I could not live dishonored--youdishonored me--I die--and die with you!'
"And I rose erect, baring my forehead to the lightning.
"The point was reached. The boat swept on with the speed of a racehorse.A dazzling flash showed a dark object amid the foam, right ahead of us.The boat rushed toward it--the jagged teeth seemed grinning at us--theboat struck--and the next moment I felt the torrent sweep over me,roaring furious and sombre, like a wild beast that has caught its prey."
XXVI.
AFTERWARD.
"When I opened my eyes, the sun was shining in my face.
"I was lying on a mass of drift-wood, caught by a ledge of rock, juttingout into the river. I had apparently been hurled there, by the force ofthe current, stunned and bruised; the sunshine had aroused me, bringingme back to that life which was a burden and a mockery.
"And where was _she_? I shuddered as I asked myself that question. Hadshe been thrown from the boat? Had it been overturned? Was she drowned?I closed my eyes with a shudder which traversed my body, chilling myblood as with the cold hand of death.
"For a moment I thought of throwing myself into the river, and thusending all my
woes. But I was too cowardly.
"I turned toward the shore, groaning; dragged my bruised and achinglimbs along the ledge of jagged rocks, through the masses of drift-wood;and finally reached the shore, where I sank down exhausted, and ready todie.
"I will not lengthen out the gloomy picture. At last I rose, lookedaround, and with bent head and cowering frame, stole away through thewoods toward Fonthill. On my way, I passed within two hundred yards of_the grave_--but I dared not go thither. He was dead, doubtless--and hehad been slain in fair combat! It was another form that haunted me--theform of a woman--one who had dishonored me--attempted to poison me--aterrible being--but still a woman; and I had--murdered her!
"I reached home an hour or two afterward. Nighthawk was sitting in thelibrary, pale, and haggard, watching for me.
"As I entered, he rose with an exclamation, extending his arms towardme, with an indescribable expression of joy.
"I shrunk back, refusing his hand.
"'Do not touch that,' I groaned, 'there is blood on it!'
"He seized it, and kneeling down, kissed it.
"'Bloody or not, it is _your_ hand--the hand of my dear young master!'
"And the honest fellow burst into tears, as he covered my hand withkisses.
"A month afterward, I was in Europe, amid the whirl and noise of Paris.I tried to forget that I was a murderer--but the shadow went with me!"
XXVII.
MOHUN TERMINATES HIS NARRATIVE.
Mohun had spoken throughout the earlier portions of his narrative in atone of cynical bitterness. His last words were mingled, however,with weary sighs, and his face wore an expression of the profoundestmelancholy.
The burnt-out cigar had fallen from his fingers to the floor; he leanedback languidly in his great arm-chair: with eyes fixed upon the dyingfire, he seemed to go back in memory to the terrible scenes justdescribed, living over again all those harsh and conflicting emotions.
"So it ended, Surry," he said, after a long pause. "Such was thefrightful gulf into which the devil and my own passions pushed me, inthat month of December, 1856. A hand as irresistible and inexorable asthe Greek Necessity had led me step by step to murder--in intent if notin fact--and for years the shadow of the crime which I believed I hadcommitted, made my life wretched. I wandered over Europe, plunged into athousand scenes of turmoil and excitement--it was all useless--still theshadow went with me. Crime is a terrible companion to have ever at yourelbow. The _Atra cura_ of the poet is nothing to it, friend! It is afiend which will not be driven away. It grins, and gibbers, andutters its gibes, day and night. Believe me, Surry,--I speak fromexperience--it is better for this world, as well as the next, to be aboor, a peasant, a clodhopper with a clear conscience, than to hold inyour hand the means of all luxury, and so-called enjoyment, and,with it, the consciousness that you are blood guilty under almost anycircumstances.
"Some men might have derived comfort from the circumstances of _that_crime. I could not. They might have said, 'I was goaded, stung, driven,outraged, tempted beyond my strength, caught in a net of fire, fromwhich there was but one method of exit--to burst out, trampling downevery thing.' Four words silenced all that sophistry--'She was a woman!'It was the face of that woman, as I saw it last on that stormy night bythe lightning flashes, which drove me to despair. I, the son of the puregentleman whose portrait is yonder--I, the representative of the Mohuns,a family which had acted in all generations according to the dictatesof the loftiest honor--I, had put to death a woman, and that thoughtspurred me to madness!
"Of _his_ death I did not think in the same manner. I had slain him infair combat, body to body--and, however the law of God may stigmatizehomicide, there was still that enormous difference. I had played my lifeagainst his, as it were--he had lost, and he paid the forfeit. But_the other_ was _murdered_! That fact stared me in the face. She haddishonored me; tricked me; attempted to poison, and then shoot me. _She_had designed to murder _me_, and had set about her design deliberately,coolly, without provocation, impelled by the lust of gold only. Shedeserved punishment, but--she was a woman! I had not said 'Go!' either,in pointing to the gloomy path to death. I had said 'Come!'--had meantto die too. I had not shrunk from the torrent in which I had resolvedshe should be borne away. I had gone into the boat with her; accompaniedher on her way; devoted myself, too, to death, at the same moment. Butall was useless. I said to myself a thousand times--'at least they cannot say that I was a coward, as well as a murderer. The last of theMohuns may have blackened his escutcheon with the crime of murder--butat least he did not spare _himself_; he faced death with his victim.'Useless, Surry--all useless! The inexorable Voice with which I fenced,had only one reply--one lunge--'She was a woman!' and the words piercedme like a sword-blade!
"Let me end this, but not before I say that the dreadful Voice was_right_. As to the combat with Mortimer, I shall express no opinion. Youknow the facts, and will judge me. But the other act was a deadly crime.Gloss it over as you may, you can never justify murder. Use all thespecial pleading possible, and the frightful deed is still as black inthe eyes of God and man as before. I saw that soon; saw it always; seeit to-day; and pray God in his infinite mercy to blot out that crimefrom his book--to pardon the poor weak creature who was driven tomadness, and attempted to commit that deadly sin.
"Well, to end my long history. I remained in Europe until the news fromAmerica indicated the approach of war--Nighthawk managing my estate, andremitting me the proceeds at Paris. When I saw that an armed collisionwas going to take place, I hastened back, reaching Virginia in thewinter of 1860. But I did not come to Fonthill. I had a horror of theplace. From New York, where I landed, I proceeded to Montgomery, withoutstopping upon the route; found there a prominent friend of my father whowas raising a brigade in the Southwest; was invited by him to aid him;and soon afterward was elected to the command of a company of cavalry byhis recommendation. I need only add, that I rose gradually fromcaptain to colonel, which rank I held in 1863, when we first met onthe Rappahannock--my regiment having been transferred to a brigade ofGeneral Lee's cavalry.
"You saw me then, and remember my bitterness and melancholy. But you hadno opportunity to descry the depth and intensity of those sentiments inme. Suddenly the load was lifted. _That woman_ made her appearance, asif from the grave, and you must have witnessed my wonder, as my eyesfell upon her. Then, she was not dead after all! I was not a murderer!And to complete the wonder, _he_ was also alive. A man passing alongthe bank of the river, as I discovered afterward from Nighthawk, whoferreted out the whole affair--a man named Swartz, a sort of poor farmerand huckster, passing along the Nottoway, on the morning after thestorm, had found the woman cast ashore, with the boat overturned nearher; and a mile farther, had found Mortimer, not yet dead, in the grave.Succored by Swartz, they had both recovered--had then disappeared. I wasto meet them again, and know of their existence only when the chance ofwar threw us face to face on the field.
"You know the scenes which followed. Mortimer, or Darke, as he now callshimself, confronted me everywhere, and _she_ seemed to have no object inlife but my destruction. You heard her boast in the house near Bucklandthat she had thrice attempted to assassinate me by means of her tool,the man Swartz. Again, at Warrenton, in the hospital, she came nearponiarding me with her own hand. Nighthawk, who had followed me to thefield, and become a secret agent of General Stuart, warned me of allthis--and one day, gave me information more startling still. And thisbrings me, my dear Surry, to the last point in my narrative, I now enterupon matter with which you have been personally 'mixed up.'
"On that night when I attacked Darke in his house in Pennsylvania,Swartz stole a paper from madam--the certificate of her marriage withMr. Mortimer-Darke, or Darke-Mortimer. The object of Swartz was, tosell the paper to me for a large sum, as he had gotten an inkling of thestate of affairs, and my relation with madam. Well, Nighthawk reportedthis immediately, made an appointment to meet Swartz in the Wilderness,and many times afterward attempted to gain possession o
f the paper,which Swartz swore was a _bona fide_ certificate of the marriage ofthese two persons _before the year_ 1856, when I first met them.
"You, doubtless, understand now, my dear Surry, my great anxiety to gainpossession of that paper. Or, if you do not, I have only to state onefact--that will explain all. I am engaged to be married to Miss Conway,and am naturally anxious to have the proof in my possession that I havenot _one wife_ yet living! I know _that woman_ well. She will stop atnothing. The rumor that I am about to become the happy husband of ayoung lady whom I love, has driven madam nearly frantic, and she hasalready shown her willingness to stop at nothing, by imprisoning Swartz,and starving him until he produced the stolen paper. Swartz is dead,however; the paper is lost; I and madam are both in hot pursuit of thedocument. Which will find it, I know not. She, of course, wishes tosuppress it--I wish to possess it. Where is it? If you will tell me,friend, I will make you a deed for half my estate! You have been with meto visit that strange woman, Amanda, as a forlorn hope. What will come Iknow not; but I trust that an all-merciful Providence will not withdrawits hand from me, and now dash all my hopes, at the very moment when thecup is raised to my lips! If so, I will accept all, submissively, as thejust punishment of my great crime--a crime, I pray God to pardon me, asthe result of mad desperation, and not as a wanton and wilful defianceof His Almighty authority! I have wept tears of blood for that act. Ihave turned and tossed on my bed, in the dark hours of night, groaningand pleading for pardon. I have bitterly expiated throughout long years,that brief tragedy. I have humbled myself in the dust before the Lordof all worlds, and, falling at the feet of the all-merciful Saviour,besought His divine compassion. I am proud--no man was ever prouder--butI have bowed my forehead to the dust, and if the Almighty now denies methe supreme consolation of this pure girl's affection,--if loving her asI do, and beloved by her, as I may venture to tell you, friend, I am tosee myself thrust back from this future--then, Surry, I will give thelast proof of my submission: I will bow down my head, and say 'Thy will,not mine, Lord, be done!'"
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