STORY ONE, CHAPTER SEVEN.
MORE SHADOWS.
From that night a complete change seemed to have come upon the home ofDutch Pugh. He had more than once determined upon putting an end to theCuban's stay, feeling at the same time as if he would like to end hislife; but reason told him that his were, after all, but suspicions, andthat perhaps they were unjust. Under the circumstances, he sought forrelief in work, and strove night and day to perfect the arrangementswhich now fast approached completion. Captain Studwick was to be incommand of the large yacht-like schooner that had been secured, and wasbeing carefully fitted with the necessaries in stores and machinery.Two of the divers engaged in raising the copper had volunteered to go,and a capital crew had been selected. The cabins were comfortablyfurnished, there being plenty of space, and places were set apart forthe captain's son and daughter, while a gentleman friend--a naturalist--had, on learning from Captain Studwick the part of the world to whichthe ship was to sail, petitioned hard, and obtained permission to go.
This last gentleman said his object was to collect specimens of thewonderful birds of Central America; but the probabilities are that if hehad not been aware that Bessy Studwick was to be of the party, he, beinga very bad sailor, would have stayed at home.
By degrees everything necessary was put on board the handsome vessel,and though the ship's destination was kept a secret, and the real objectof her mission confided to few, she formed the general topic ofconversation in the port, and plenty of exaggerations flew about.
The energetic way in which Dutch worked served to lull to a certainextent the sense of pain that he endured; but he suffered bitterly; andat last it had come to this: that he spent as little of his time at homeas possible, returning there, however, at night faint and weary, butwith a heart sickness that drove away the needful sleep.
It afforded him some gratification, though, to find that Miss Studwickoften called at his home; and when, on more than one occasion, she camewith her brother to the office, he read in her eyes the deep sympathythat she felt for him, and asked himself why he had not made this womanhis wife.
He sat often quite late in the office, long after Rasp had grumblinglygone off with a final stoke at the fire, which afterwards sank and diedout; and at such times, in the semi-darkness, with the goggle-eyedhelmets seeming to stare at him and rejoice in his sufferings, he askedhimself what he should do? Whether he should leave home for ever?Whether he should put her away from him, and wait till some time in thefar-off distance of life when she might, perhaps, come to him, and askhis pardon for the wrong she had done.
"No!" he would exclaim, "I will not believe such evil of her. She isdazzled by this polished scoundrel, and poor, rough, I compare badlywith him, for she cannot see our hearts."
Should he end the matter at once?
No, he felt that he could not, for he had nothing but his bare, cruelsuspicions to go upon, the greatest of which was that before long Hesterwould flee with this man, and his home would be wretched.
Wretched? If not wretched already, for all was wretched at home: Hesterwas low-spirited; for his own part, he rarely spoke; and the Cubanavoided him.
So far, Dutch had indulged in the hope that he might, after all, bedeceiving himself, when one evening, on entering the little drawing-roomsuddenly, Hester started up, looking confused, and left the room, whilethe Cuban turned away with a short nod, and walked to the window.
From that hour every spare moment was devoted to watching: for thesuspicion grew stronger now that before long, if he did not stay it, hishome would be left desolate.
This lasted for some days, when the idea was checked by Laure himself,who, as the time approached for the departure of the expedition,suddenly began to display great interest in the proceedings, so thatDutch felt compelled to own that his ideas of flight must be wrong; infact, it was as if Laure had divined his thoughts just as he was aboutto speak to Mr Parkley, and tell him his suspicions that the Cubanevidently meant to give up the expedition, and, much as it would tearhis heart to speak, give the reasons for his belief.
Hardly, though, had he come to the conclusion that he was wrong, when atrifle set him off back in his former way of thinking, for his mind wasnow a chaos of wildering fancies, and the slightest thing set hisjealous feelings in a blaze.
He would not speak to Hester; he would not take an open, manly way ofseeing whether his suspicions were just; but, submitting his betterparts to his distorted reason, he nursed his anguish, and so it fell outthat one night he found himself watching his own house, in the fullbelief that his wife's illness in the morning before he left for theoffice was a subterfuge, and that the time had come for her to take somestep fatal to her future.
"But I will stop it," muttered Dutch to himself, as with throbbing pulseand beating temples he avoided the gate, so as not to have his footstepsheard on the gravel, and, climbing the fence, entered his own gardenlike a thief.
He had hardly reached the little lawn when he heard the sound of wheels,and stepping behind a clump of laurels he stopped, listening withbeating heart, for here was food for his suspicions.
As he expected, the fly stopped at the gate; a man in a cloak got out,went hastily up the path, knocked softly at the door, and was admittedon the instant.
Dutch paused, hesitating as to what he should do. Should he follow andenter? No, he decided that he would stay there, and stop them as theycame out, for the fly was waiting.
Where would Hester be now? he asked himself, with the dimly-seen houseseeming to swim before him; and the answer came as if hissed into hisear by some mocking fiend--
"In her bedroom, getting something for her flight."
Half-a-dozen steps over the soft grass took him where he could see thewindow, and of course there was a light there, and then--
The blood seemed to rush to his brain, a horrible sense of choking cameupon him, and he groaned as he staggered back, for there, plainly enoughseen, was the figure of Hester, her hair hanging loose as she lay backover the arm of a man, who was half-leading, half-carrying her towardsthe door.
All this in shadow was sharply cost upon the blind, and with a groan ofmingled rage and misery Dutch rushed towards the house, but only tototter and fall heavily, for it was as though a sharp blow had beendealt him, and for some time he lay there passive and ignorant of whatpassed around.
He recovered at length, and lay trying to think--to call to mind whatthis meant. Why was he lying there on the wet grass, with this strangedeathly feeling of sickness upon him?
Then all came back with a rush, and he rose to his feet to see that thelight was still in the bedroom, but the shadows were gone.
With a cry of horror he ran to the gate, but the carriage was not there,and he stood listening.
Yes, there was the sound of wheels dying away. No, they had stopped,and he was about to rush off in pursuit when a hasty step coming in hisdirection stayed him, for he knew it well, and, drawing back, he let theCuban pass him, then followed him softly as he stole round the house,going on tiptoe towards the dining-room window, where Dutch caught himby the shoulder.
"Ah," he said, laughing, "so our gallant Englishman is on the watch, ishe? Does the jealous trembler think I would steal his wife?"
"Dog!" hissed Dutch, catching him by the throat, "what are you doinghere?"
"What is that to you, fool!" exclaimed the Cuban, flashing into rage."Loose me, you madman, or you shall repent it. Curse you, you arestrong."
Blind to everything but his maddening passion, kept back now for so manydays, and absorbed by the feeling that he could now wreak his vengeanceupon the man who had wrecked his home, Dutch savagely tightened his holdupon his adversary, who, though a strong man, bent like a reed beforehim. It was no time for reason to suggest that he might be wrong; theidea had possession of the young man's soul that he was stopping anintended flight, and he drove the Cuban backwards, and had nearly forcedhim across a garden seat when Laure, writhing like an eel, got partlyfree.
> "Curse your English brute strength!" he muttered, and getting his armfrom his cloak, he struck Dutch full on the temple with some weapon, andthe young man fell once more prone on the grass.
Dutch the Diver; Or, A Man's Mistake Page 7