For the Term of His Natural Life
Page 94
* * * * *
----"That is my story. Let it plead with you to turn you from yourpurpose, and to save her. The punishment of sin falls not upon thesinner only. A deed once done lives in its consequence for ever, andthis tragedy of shame and crime to which my felon's death is a fittingend, is but the outcome of a selfish sin like yours!"
It had grown dark in the prison, and as he ceased speaking, Rufus Dawesfelt a trembling hand seize his own. It was that of the chaplain.
"Let me hold your hand!--Sir Richard Devine did not murder your father.He was murdered by a horseman who, riding with him, struck him andfled."
"Merciful God! How do you know this?"
"Because I saw the murder committed, because--don't let go my hand--Irobbed the body."
"You!--"
"In my youth I was a gambler. Lord Bellasis won money from me, andto pay him I forged two bills of exchange. Unscrupulous and cruel, hethreatened to expose me if I did not give him double the sum. Forgerywas death in those days, and I strained every nerve to buy back theproofs of my folly. I succeeded. I was to meet Lord Bellasis near hisown house at Hampstead on the night of which you speak, to pay the moneyand receive the bills. When I saw him fall I galloped up, but insteadof pursuing his murderer I rifled his pocket-book of my forgeries. I wasafraid to give evidence at the trial, or I might have saved you.--Ah!you have let go my hand!"
"God forgive you!" said Rufus Dawes, and then was silent.
"Speak!" cried North. "Speak, or you will make me mad. Reproach me!Spurn me! Spit upon me! You cannot think worse of me than I do myself."But the other, his head buried in his hands, did not answer, and with awild gesture North staggered out of the cell.
Nearly an hour had passed since the chaplain had placed the rum flask inhis hand, and Gimblett observed, with semi-drunken astonishment, that itwas not yet empty. He had intended, in the first instance, to have takenbut one sup in payment of his courtesy--for Gimblett was conscious ofhis own weakness in the matter of strong waters--but as he waited andwaited, the one sup became two, and two three, and at length more thanhalf the contents of the bottle had moistened his gullet, and maddenedhim for more. Gimblett was in a quandary. If he didn't finish the flask,he would be oppressed with an everlasting regret. If he did finish it hewould be drunk; and to be drunk on duty was the one unpardonable sin. Helooked across the darkness of the sea, to where the rising and fallinglight marked the schooner. The Commandant was a long way off! A faintbreeze, which had--according to Blunt's prophecy--arisen with the night,brought up to him the voices of the boat's crew from the jetty belowhim. His friend Jack Mannix was coxswain of her. He would give Jacka drink. Leaving the gate, he advanced unsteadily to the edge of theembankment, and, putting his head over, called out to his friend. Thebreeze, however, which was momentarily freshening, carried his voiceaway; and Jack Mannix, hearing nothing, continued his conversation.Gimblett was just drunk enough to be virtuously indignant at thisincivility, and seating himself on the edge of the bank, swallowedthe remainder of the rum at a draught. The effect upon his enforcedlytemperate stomach was very touching. He made one feeble attempt to getupon his legs, cast a reproachful glance at the rum bottle, essayedto drink out of its spirituous emptiness, and then, with a smile ofreckless contentment, cursed the island and all its contents, and fellasleep.