THE TEST OF BLOOD.
"Thou shalt do no murder."
"You won't dance with me, Kathleen?"
"No, Luke, I will not."
"For what reason?"
"I don't choose it. Besides, I'm engaged to Mark Dermot."
The above, very slight conversation in itself, was to the individuals,full of the greatest import. To explain it, it will be necessary totake a Parthian glance at our subject. Kathleen Dwyer was the pretty,spoiled, village pet, with quite sufficient vanity to know that thepreference was deserved. Every young man in the place was anxious topay court to her, and sooth to say, she impartially dispensed hersmiles to all, reserving, it must be admitted, her more seriousthoughts for one alone. That one was Luke Bryant, and as he reallyloved her, the flightiness of her conduct, and her interminableflirtations gave him very great uneasiness. Often and often would hereason with her, imploring her to dismiss the crowd of purposelesssuitors that ever fluttered round, and select one, even though thatselection would doom him to misery.
"No, no!" the little madcap would say, with a bright smile, "I cannotgive up altogether the delight of having so many male slaves in mytrain; they are useful, and if you don't like it you know your remedy."
"But do you think it is right?" he would say; "suppose there may besome, even one who loves you truly, to lead him on by the false lightof your encouraging smile, to perish at last?"
"Pshaw!" would she answer, "men are not made of such perishable stuff."
"Well, well, Kathleen, have a care; if any one of your numerousadmirers feels towards you as I do, to lose you would be the loss ofeverything."
As may be reasonably supposed, these conversations usually ended in alittle tiff, when the wild, good-hearted, but giddy-headed girl wouldselect some one from her surrounding beaux, to play off against Luke;generally pitching upon the person most likely to touch his feelings tothe very quick; herself, the while, I must do her the justice to say,quite as miserable if not more so, than her victim.
And now to return, let me describe the individual whom she has thistime chosen to inflict torture upon her lover, and I think you willagree with me that he has cause for more than discontent.
Mark Dermot, or, as he was most generally denominated, Black Mark, wasone of those persons we sometimes meet with in the world, on whomprepossessing appearance and great natural ability are bestowed, onlyto be put to the basest possible uses. Character he had none, except ofthe very worst kind; his ostensible pursuit was smuggling, but crimesof the darkest nature were freely whispered about him, and yet, inspite of all this, his dashing dare-devil nature and indomitableimpudence, enabled him to show himself in places where, although hisevil reputation was well known, he was tolerated either fromsupineness, or more likely from the fear of his enmity.
It is not to be wondered at then, that as Luke stood by and saw thisruffian carry off his soul's beloved, his very heart should quake fromapprehension. He was unaware until this moment that she ever knew him,and his feelings, as ever and anon Mark would seem to whisper somethingin Kathleen's ear, to which she would seem to smile an approval, canonly be imagined by such of my readers, if any there be, who have seenanother feeding upon smiles which they would fain monopolize.
Jealousy of the most painful nature took possession of Luke; he hadoften experienced sensations of annoyance before, but never to thisextent. Her fame--her character--were compromised; for he knew BlackMark to be the very worst description of man for a woman to come incontact with at all, caring nothing for the ties of morality, or forthe world's opinion--reckless, bad-hearted, and moreover uncomfortablyhandsome in the eyes of a lover.
The dance now over, Luke imagined that she would give up her partnerand join him; but no, the silly girl seemed proud of her conquest, andto take a sort of mad delight in wounding Luke's feelings to theuttermost. She approached the spot where Luke with folded arms wasstanding, and leaning familiarly upon the arm of Mark, said laughingly:
"Why don't you dance, Luke? Come, I'll find a partner for you."
Galled to the very quick, Luke answered with asperity--"Thank you, MissDwyer, you have found one for yourself, and"--looking at Black Mark, asa jealous lover only can look--"you'll pardon me, but I don't like thesample."
Mark regarded him with a scowl of the deepest malignity, whileKathleen, the real feelings of her heart kept down by coquetry,exclaimed with a laugh:--
"Don't mind him, Mark, he's only jealous, poor fellow. Come, will younot dance again?"
"Aye, and again, and for ever," impetuously replied Mark; "Come."
And as they went to rejoin the dancers, Kathleen caught the expressionof Luke's features, and there saw so much misery depicted, that shewould have given worlds to have recalled her words. She yearned toimplore his forgiveness, but her insatiable appetite for admirationrestrained her. "Never mind," thought she, "when the dance is over, Ican easily make it up with him," and away she went, thinking no moreabout it.
At the conclusion of the dance, her better feelings all predominating,she quitted Mark and rushed over to the place where Luke had beenstanding, but he was gone; with that unfeeling speech rankling in hisheart, he had left. It was now her turn to be miserable; not all thesoft speeches that were poured into her ear had power to console her,but her annoyance was at its height when Black Mark, presuming upon theencouragement which she had given him, seated himself beside her, andin ardent language declared himself her passionate lover. Poor,unthinking Kathleen, she had evoked a spirit which she had not power toquell.
It was more than a week after, before Luke could bring himself toventure near Kathleen; but finding that each succeeding day only madehim still more wretched, he determined to know his fate at once, andwith a sorely palpitating heart he neared her abode, lifted the latch,and entered; the first sight that met his eyes was Mark and Kathleen,sitting near to each other, the deep blush that crimsoned her to thevery throat, evinced to Luke the interesting nature of theirconversation. She could not speak, neither could he, but giving her onelook which sank into her very brain, he left the place; in vain shecalled after him, he turned but once--a deep curse was on his lips buthis noble heart refused to sanction it. "Farewell, beloved Kathleen,"he cried, while bitter tears flowed fast as he spoke, "May the good Godprotect you now, for you will need it." And Luke rapidly strode towardsthe village, inly determining to go to sea on the morrow, and neverlook upon her or his loved home again.
Meanwhile, Kathleen, apprehensive that he would do something desperate,implored Mark to follow and bring him back. With a contemptuous sneer,he answered, "Do you think I'm a fool? No, no! Kathleen, you've gonetoo far with me to retract now. The world sees and knows our intimacy;the only barrier to our happiness was your foolish lover, Luke--he hastaken the sulks, and gone away--our road is now clear. I love youbetter than a hundred such milk-sops as he could, so come--say theword!"
"That word," replied Kathleen, firmly, "shall never be said by me."
"Have a care, girl!" fiercely retorted Mark, "I'm not a man to betrifled with; you have led me to believe that you liked me, and you_shall_ redeem the pledge your eyes at least have given."
"Never! Mark Dermot, never!" exclaimed Kathleen, rising from her seat;but with a fierce gesture, and a determined fire in his eye, Markforced her down again, saying, in a clear, but terribly earnest manner:"Kathleen, from my youth up, I never allowed the slightest wish of mysoul to be thwarted; think you that I shall submit to be led or driven,coaxed near, or sent adrift, at the caprice of any living thing?--no!if you can't be mine from love, you shall from fear; for," ratifyinghis threat by a fearful oath, "no obstacle shall exist between me andmy desire."
"What mean you, Mark Dermot?" cried the terrified girl.
"No matter," he replied, "the choice rests with you. You cannot denythat your manner warranted me in soliciting your hand. Remember, loveand hate dwell very near each other--the same heart contains them both.Be mine, and every wish of your soul shall be anticipated--refuse me,and tremble a
t the consequences."
"Heaven forgive, and help me," inly prayed Kathleen, as the result ofher weak conduct now made itself so awfully apparent. Thinking toenlist some good feeling from Mark's generosity, she franklyacknowledged to him that her affections were entirely bestowed upon theabsent Luke.
She knew not the demon-heart in which she had trusted; instead ofinclining him to mercy, her words only inflamed him into tenfold rage.
"Vile woman!" he exclaimed, starting to his feet. "Have you then beenmaking a scoff and jest--a play-thing and a tool of me? Better for youhad you raised a fiend than tampered with me thus. How know I that youdo not lie, even now, woman-devil? One word for all!--by your eternalhope, who is it that you do love?"
"On my knees--Luke Bryant," fervently said Kathleen.
"Then wo to ye both!" cried Mark, casting her rudely from him, and,with a look of intense hate, rushing from the cottage.
There was a perfect tempest of rage in Mark's breast, as he quittedKathleen; plans of revenge, deadly and horrible, suggested themselvesto him, and he nursed the devilish feeling within his heart until everyhumanizing thought was swallowed up in the anticipation of a sweepingrevenge. On reaching the village, his first care was to find Luke; uponseeing him, he started as though a serpent stood in his path.
"Keep away from me, Mark Dermot," he sternly exclaimed. "If you arecome to triumph in your success, be careful, for there may be danger init."
"Luke," replied the other, in a sad tone, "we are rivals no longer.Nay, listen, I bring you good news, there are not many who would havedone this; but what care I now--the fact is, like a sensible man, I amcome to proclaim my own failure. Kathleen has refused me."
"She has?"
"As true as I'm alive--rejected me for you, Luke. Nay, as good as toldme that she merely flirted with me to fix your chains the tighter.Cunning little devil--eh, Luke? Come, you'll shake hands with me now, Iknow."
"If I could believe you, Mark," said Luke, the joy dancing in his veryeyes.
"I tell you she acknowledged to me that she never could love any onebut you. Now am I not a generous rival, to carry his mistress's love toanother? She requested me to ask you to call in this morning, if youwould have conclusive proof of her sincerity, and you would then findthat _she could never use you so again_. But now 'tis getting late, andas I have delivered my message, I shall leave you to dream of Kathleenand happiness. Good night--be sure and see her in the morning;" andthey parted.
Soon afterwards, Luke missed his clasp-knife with which he had beeneating his supper, but, after a slight search, thought no more of thematter, his very soul glowing with renewed delight at the thought ofseeing his loved one on the morrow--that their differences should bemade up, and all again be sunshine.
About an hour after, as he was preparing to retire for the night, itsuddenly occurred to him that he would like to take a walk towardsKathleen's cottage--perchance he should see her shadow on thecurtain--he might hear her sweet voice--no matter, to gaze upon thehome that contained her would at least be something; so off he startedin that direction, a happy feeling pervading his every sense. Arrivedwithin sight of her abode, he fancied he heard a stifled groan, but histhoughts, steeped in joy, dwelt not on it. In a moment after, adistinct and fearful scream, as of one in agony, burst on the stillnessof the night. It came from the direction of Kathleen's cottage.Inspired with a horrible fear, he ran wildly forward--another, andanother terrible scream followed; there was no longer doubt--it was thevoice of his Kathleen. With mad desperation, he reached the place justin time to see the figure of a man, who, in the doubtful light, hecould not recognize, rush from the door and disappear in darkness. Inbreathless horror Luke entered. Great Heaven! what a sight met hiseyes. His beloved Kathleen lay on the blood-dabbled floor, in the lastagony of departing nature, her beating heart pierced with many wounds;she saw and evidently recognized Luke, for 'mid the desperate throes ofebbing life, she clutched his hand in hers, essaying, but in vain, toarticulate--she could but smile; her eye glazed over--her hand relaxedits grasp--and with her gentle head resting on his breast, her spiritpassed away.
All this was so sudden and fearfully unexpected to Luke, that hescarcely knew 'twas reality, until several of the surroundingneighbors, who had been alarmed by the out-cry, came hastily in.
"See!" cried one, "'Tis as I thought; murder has been done."
"And here is the fatal instrument with which it has been effected,"said another, as he picked up a gory knife from the floor. It caughtthe eye of Luke. "That knife is mine," said he, in the measured tone ofone stricken down by terrible calamity.
"Yours?" they all exclaimed at once. "Then you have murdered her?"
Luke only smiled--a ghastly, soul-crushed smile, most awful to lookupon at such a time; his heart was too full for words. Reason, whichhad been dethroned by this unexpected blow, had scarcely yet returnedto its seat, for all unconsciously he still held the lifeless formtightly clasped in his arms, gazing, with a sort of stony expression,upon the face of her who had been to him the world.
It was not until they approached to seize him for killing _her_, thathe seemed to be thoroughly aware of his position.
"What would you do, friends?" said he, mournfully, as they endeavoredto force him away. "Would you deny me the sad comfort of dying in herpresence?"
"Have you not murdered her, wretch?" cried one of the by-standers.
"What!--murder _her_--God in heaven forbid," he exclaimed.
"Is not this your knife?"
"It is!"
"And how came it here--if not used by you--in this unknown manner?"
"It was stolen from me by that arch-demon, Mark Dermot," said Luke,shuddering to the very heart, as he mentioned that name.
"That has got to be proved," cried one of the crowd, who happened to bea friend of Mark's, "we can't take your bare word for it. Let him besecured."
But Luke needed no securing. Listlessly he suffered them to pinion hisarms; and in the same room with the precious casket which oncecontained his heart's treasure, he abided the remainder of the night,in a state of mental torture utterly incapable of being rendered intowords.
The morning after this awful occurrence, a coroner's jury was summoned,and the identity of the knife having been proved, added to his ownadmission, and the fact of his having had a quarrel with her the daybefore being testified to, every circumstance tended to fix the guiltupon him; a verdict was delivered accordingly, and Luke Bryant stoodcharged with the murder of one for whom he would willingly have shedhis last drop of blood.
With a degree of effrontery consonant with his general character, BlackMark made his appearance amongst the spectators who attended theinquiry, and was loudest in denunciation against the supposed criminal.It only remained now for the accused, who had been removed during theinquest, to be brought into the chamber of death, previously to thewarrant being drawn out for his final committal, to be tried at theensuing quarter sessions. He was conducted into the room; with alistless, apathetic gaze he looked around him mechanically, for hecared not now what fate might do to him, when suddenly his eyes restedon Mark Dermot. The consciousness of everything that had taken placeseemed all to flash through his brain at once.
"Murderer!" he cried. "Can it be that Heaven's lightning slumbers!Friends!--behold that fiend; who, not content with the life's blood ofone victim, now comes to triumph in a double murder!"
"What means the fool?" contemptuously exclaimed Mark. "Does he supposethat reasoning men will credit his ravings, or help him to shift hisload of crime upon another's shoulders?"
"As I am a living man--as there is a just God who knows the secrets ofall hearts, there stands the murderer, Mark Dermot!" solemnly repliedLuke. "It is not for myself I care, for Heaven knows that I wouldrather die than bear about this load of misery; but that he shouldbrave the angels with a shameless brow, he whose hands are crimsonedwith her precious blood--it is too much!--too much!"
"Then, Luke Bryant," said the coroner, "you deny having comm
itted thiscrime?"
"On my knees--before the throne of mercy--I do!"
"I trust, then, that you may cause a jury of your countrymen to believeso; but for me, I have only one duty to perform, and circumstancesclearly bear me out in my assumption. I must send you to trial!"
At this juncture, one of the jurymen, who thought he could perceive ameaning in Mark's peculiar, ill-concealed glance of savage delight,begged to be heard: keeping his eye steadily fixed on Mark's face, hesaid, with solemnity:
"When the judgment of man is in perplexity as to the author of crimeslike these, the aid of Heaven may well be solicited, that it might bemercifully pleased to give some indication by which the innocent mightbe prevented from suffering for the guilty. We have an old traditionhere, that if the accused lays his right hand upon the breast of thecorpse, swearing upon the Holy Gospel that he had no act or part in thedeed, speaking truly, no results will follow; but if he swears falsely,the dead itself will testify against him; for the closed wounds willre-open their bloody mouths, and to the confusion of the guilty one,the stream of life will flow once more for a short space! It seems tome that this is a case in which _The Test of Blood_ might be appliednot vainly."
"Willingly!--most willingly will I abide the test," exclaimed Luke.
"And you?" said the juror, with a penetrating glance at Mark.
"I!" said the latter, with an attempt at recklessness, "What is it tome?--why should I be subject to such mummery--who accuses me?"
"I do!" thundered Luke, "and I now insist upon his going through thetrial--myself will point out the way." So saying, he approached thelifeless body, and sinking on his knees, laid his right hand reverentlyon the heart, saying--
"My blessed angel! if thy spirit lingers near, thou knowest that thishand would rather let my life-blood forth, than offer thee the shadowof an injury!"
They waited an instant--all was quiet; meantime, Mark, persuadinghimself that it was but a form, and yet trembling to the very core,advanced. All eyes were upon him; he paused--cast a glance around, andgrinding his teeth savagely, cried out:
"Why do you all fix your gaze on me? I'm not afraid to do this piece offolly." He advanced another step--again he hesitated;heartless--brutal--though he was, the spell of a mighty dread was onhis soul. His face grew livid; the blood started from his lips; largeround drops burst from his forehead and rolled down his ashy cheeks. Atlast, with a tremendous effort, he knelt, and attempted to stretchforth his hand--it seemed glued to his side. Starting to his feetagain, he cried fiercely:
"I will not do it--why should I?"
"You cannot!--you dare not!" solemnly ejaculated Luke. "If you areguiltless, why should you fear?"
"Fear!" screamed the other, "I fear neither man nor devil--dead norliving," suddenly placing his hand upon the breast of the dead!
"See--see!" cried Luke, wildly, "the blood mounts up--it overflows!"
"It's a lie!" madly exclaimed Mark.
But it was no lie; the ruddy stream welled upward through those gapingwounds, and flowed once more adown her snowy breast, a murmur of aweand surprise breaking from the assembled group; whilst shivering to thevery heart, the terrors of discovered guilt and despair seized uponMark.
"Curse ye all!" he roared. "You would juggle my life away; but youshall find I will not part with it so readily." Hastily drawing apistol, it was instantly wrested from him. Several of the bystandersflung themselves upon him; but the desperate resistance which he made,added to the frightful internal agony which he had just endured, causedhim to break a blood-vessel; and in raving delirium, the hardenedsinner's soul wended to its last account in the presence of those whom,in his reckless villainy, he had expected to destroy.
Wonder succeeded wonder; and the mystery was soon discovered to be nomystery at all, but the natural instrument in the hands of Providenceto confound the guilty. As relapsing into his former listlessness, Lukewas intently gazing on the body of his beloved, suddenly his heart gaveone tremendous throb.
"Hush!" he exclaimed, with anxious, trembling voice; "For Heaven'slove, be silent for an instant! I thought I heard a sound like--Ha!there it is again--a gasp--a gentle sob, and scarcely audible, butdistinct as thunder within my soul--there's warmth about herbreast--her eyelids tremble. The God of Mercy be thanked!--shelives--she lives!" and Luke sunk upon his knees; a copious flood oftears, the first he had ever shed, relieved his overcharged feelings.
It was true--she did live; from loss of blood only had she fainted, andthe excessive weakness had thus far prolonged the insensibility; noneof the stabs had reached a vital part, and it was the first effort ofnature to resume its suspended functions which had caused the bloodonce more to circulate, just at the instant which so signallyestablished the guilt of the intended murderer.
It only remains for me to say that Mark Dermot's previous bad characterprevented much sympathy being felt for a fate so well deserved. Inprocess of time Luke's devoted love was well rewarded. Kathleenrecovered from the effects of her wounds--gave him her hand, andprofiting by the terrible lesson which she had received, made anestimable, virtuous, and affectionate wife.
The Bunsby Papers (second series): Irish Echoes Page 10