Jones eyed him for a moment, and then turned away impatiently and said, I dont know what youre talking about. Dont worry me. Im sick and half crazy. Get away, will ye!
This to me! to me! exclaimed the other, stepping back, his eyes flashing fire; you forget yourself.
Jones rose up, his red hair hanging like ropes about his face, and his bloodshot eyes and disfigured features giving him the look rather of a wild beast than of a man. Shaking his finger at Grosket, he said, Keep away from me to day, I say. Theres an evil spell over me. Come to-morrow, but dont push me to-day, or God knows what you may drive me to do. There, therego.
Still Grosket stirred not, but with a curling lip and an eye as bright as his own, and voice so fearfully quiet and yet stern that at another time it might have quelled even the strong spirit of the robber, he said Enoch Grosket never goes until his object is attained.
Then you wont go? demanded Jones.
No!
Jones made a hasty step toward him, with his teeth set and his eyes burning like coals of fire; but whatever may have been his purpose, and from the expression of his face, there was little doubt but that it was a hostile one, he was diverted from it by hearing a hand on the latch of the door and a voice from without demanding admittance.
It is Rust, exclaimed Grosket, in a sharp whisper. He touched the burglar on the shoulder and said in the same tone, Im going in there. He pointed to a closet in a dark part of the room, nearly concealed by the wainscotting. Let him in, and betray me if you dare!
You seem to know our holes well, muttered Jones. Youve been here afore. Grosket made no reply, but hurried across the room and secreted himself in the closet, which evidently had been constructed as a place of concealment, either for the tenants of the room themselves, or for whatever else it might not suit their fancy to have too closely examined.
Jones stared after him, apparently forgetting the applicant for admission, until a renewed and very violent knocking recalled his attention to it. He then went to the door, drew back the bolt, and walked to his seat, without even glancing to see who came in, or whom the person was who followed so closely at his heels. Nor did he look around until he felt his arm roughly grasped, and a sharp stern voice hissing in his ear:
So, so! a fine nights work youve made of it. Tim Craig is dead and the whole city is already ringing with the news; and you, youre a murderer!
Jones started from his seat with the sudden spasmodic bound of one who has received a mortal thrust. He stared wildly at the sharp thin face which had almost touched his, and then sat down and said:
Dont talk to me so, Mr. Rust; I cant bear it.
Ho, ho! your conscience is tender, is it? It has a raw spot that wont bear handling, has it? Well see to that. But to business, said he, his face becoming white with rage; his black eyes blazing, and his voice losing its smoothness and quivering as he spoke.
Ive come here to fulfil my agreement; you were to get that child for me to-day; Ive come for her; where is she?
Jones looked at him with an expression of impatience mingled with contempt, but made him no answer.
Tim Craig was to have gone to that house; he was to have carried her off; he was to have her here, here, HERE! said he, in the same fierce tone. Why hasnt he done it?
Because hes dead, said Jones savagely.
Im glad of it! Im glad of it! exclaimed Rust. He deserved it. The coward! Let him die.
Tim Craig was no coward, replied Jones, in a tone which, had Rust been less excited, would have warned him to desist.
Ha! exclaimed Rust, scanning him from head to foot, as if surprised at his daring to contradict him, Would you gainsay me?
Jones returned his look without flinching, his teeth firmly set and grating together. At last he said:
I do gainsay you; and I do say, whoever calls Tim Craig a coward lies!
This, and from you! exclaimed Rust, shaking his thin finger in his very face; this from you; you, a house-breaker, a thief, and last night the murderer of your comrade. Ho! ho! it makes me laugh! Fool! How many lives have you? One word of mine could hang you.
Youll never hang me, replied Jones, in the same low, savage tone. I wish you had, before that cursed job of yours made me put a bullet in poor Tim. I wish you had; but it is too late. You wont now.
Words cannot describe the fury of Michael Rust at seeing himself thus bearded by one whom he had been used to see truckle to him, whom he considered the mere tool of Craig, and whom he had never thought it worth while even to consult in their previous interviews.
Wont I? wont I? Look to yourself, muttered he, shaking his finger at him with a slow, cautioning gesture, Look to yourself.
Youre right, I will; I say I will, exclaimed Jones, leaping up and confronting him. I say I will; and now I do! He grasped him by the throat and shook him as if he had been a child.
I might as well kill him at once, muttered he, without heeding the struggles of Rust. Its him or me; yes, yes, Ill do it.
Coming to this fatal conclusion, he flung Rust back on the floor and leaped upon him. At this moment, however, the door of the closet was thrown open, and Grosket, whom he had entirely forgotten, sprang suddenly out:
Come, come, this wont do! said he; no murder!
Jones made no effort to resist the jerk at his arm with which Grosket accompanied his words, but quietly rose, and said:
Well, he drove me to it. He may thank you for his life, not me.
Relieved from his antagonist, Rust recovered his feet, and turning to Grosket said, in a sneering tone:
Michael Rust thanks Enoch for having used his influence with his friend, to prevent the commission of a crime which might have made both Enoch and his crony familiar with a gallows. A select circle of acquaintance friend Enoch has.
Grosket, quietly, pointed to the closet and said:
You forget that I have been there ever since you came in the room; and have overheard every thing that passed between you and my friend.
Rust bit his lip.
Dont let it annoy you, continued he, for the most of what I heard I knew before. I have had my eye on you from the time we parted. With all your benevolent schemes respecting myself I am perfectly familiar. The debt which you bought up to arrest me on; your attempt to have me indicted on a false charge of felony; the quiet hint dropped in another quarter, that if I should be found with my throat cut, or a bullet in my head, you wouldnt break your heart; I knew them all; but I did not avail myself of the law. Shall I tell you why, Michael Rust? Because I had a revenge sweeter than the law could give.
Friend Enoch is welcome to it when he gets it, replied Rust, in a soft tone. But the day when it will come is far off.
The day is at hand, replied Grosket. It is here: it is now. Not for a mine of gold would I forego what I now know; not for any thing that is dear in the worlds eyes, would I spare you one pang that I can now inflict.
The day is at hand, replied Grosket. It is here: it is now. Not for a mine of gold would I forego what I now know; not for any thing that is dear in the worlds eyes, would I spare you one pang that I can now inflict.
Rust smiled incredulously, but made no reply.
Your schemes are frustrated, continued Grosket. The children are both found; their parentage known; your name blasted. The brother who fostered you, and loaded you with kindness will have his eyes opened to your true character; and you will be a felon, amenable to the penalty of the law, whenever any man shall think fit to call it down upon your head. But this is nothing to what is in store for you.
Well, said Rust, with the same quiet smile; please to enumerate what other little kindnesses you have in store for me.
I will, replied Grosket. I was once a happy man. I had a wife and daughter, whom I loved. My wife is dead; what became of my child? I say, exclaimed he bitterly, what became of my child?
Young women will forget themselves sometimes, said Rust, his thin lip curling. She became a harlotonly a harlot.
Grosket grew deadly pale, and his voice became less clear, as he answered:
Youre rightyoure right! why shrink from the word. Its a harsh one; but its Gods truth; she didand she died.
Thats frank, said Rust, quite frank. I am a straight-forward man, and always speak the truth. Im glad to see that friend Enoch can bear it like a Christian.
A loud, taunting laugh broke from Grosket; and then he said:
Thus much for me; now for yourself, Michael Rust. You once had a wife.
Rusts calm sneer disappeared in an instant, and he seemed absolutely to wither before the keen flashing eye which was fixed steadfastly on his.
She lived with you two years; and then she becameshall I tell you what?
Rusts lips moved, but no sound came from them. Grosket bent his lips to his ear, and whispered in it. Rust neither moved nor spoke. He seemed paralyzed.
But she died, continued Grosket, and she left a childa daughter; mine was a daughter too.
Rust started from a state of actual torpor; every energy, every faculty, every feeling leaping into life.
That daughter is now alive, continued Grosket, speaking slowly, that every word might tell with tenfold force. That daughter now is, what you drove my child to be, a harlot.
Its false as hell! shouted Rust, in a tone that made the room ring. Its false!
Its true. I can prove it; prove it, clear as the noon-day, returned Grosket, with a loud, exulting laugh.
Oh! Enoch! oh, Enoch! said Rust, in a broken, supplicating tone, tell me that its false, and Ill bless you! Crush me, blight me, do what you will, only tell me that my own loved child is pure from spot or stain! Tell me so, I beseech you; I, Michael Rust, who never begged a boon beforeI beseech you.
He fell on his knees in front of Grosket, and clasping his hands together, raised them toward him.
I cannot, replied Grosket, coldly, for its as true as there is a heaven above us!
Rust made an effort to speak; his fingers worked convulsively, and he fell prostrate on the floor.
THE SACRIFICE
One day during the bloody executions which took place at Lyons, a young girl rushed into the hall where the revolutionary tribunal was held, and throwing herself at the feet of the judges, said: There remain to me of all my family only my brothers! Mother, father, sisteryou have butchered all; and now you are going to condemn my brothers. Oh! in mercy ordain that I may ascend the scaffold with them! Her prayer was refused, and she threw herself into the Rhone and perished.
Du BrocaThe judges have met in the council-hall,
A strange and a motley pageant, all:
What seek they? to win for their land a name
The brightest and best in the lists of fame?
The light of Mercys all-hallowed ray
To look with grief on the culprits way?
Nay! watch the smile and the flushing brow,
And in that crowd what read ye now?
The daring spirit and purpose high,
The fiery glance of the eagle eye
That marked the Romans haughty pride,
In the days of yore by the Tibers side?
The stern resolve of the patriots breast,
When the warriors zeal has sunk to rest?
No! Mercy has fled from the hardened heart,
And Justice and Truth in her steps depart,
And the fires of hell rage fierce and warm
Mid the fitful strife of the spirits storm.
But a wail is borne on the troubled air:
What victim comes those frowns to dare?
Tis womans form and womans eye,
That Time hath passed full lightly by;
The limners art in vain might trace
The glorious beauty and winning grace
Of that fair girl; youths sunny day
Flings its radiance over lifes changing way:
Why has she left her princely home,
Why to that hall a suppliant come?
Her heart is sad with a deepening gloom,
For Hope has found in her heart a tomb.
With quivring lip, and eye whose light
Is faint as the moon in a cloudy night,
And with cheek as pale as the crimson glow
That the sunset casts on the spotless snow;
Nerved with the strength of wild despair,
Low at their feet she pours her prayer:
My home! my home! is desolate,
For ye have slain them all,
And cast upon the light of Love
Deaths cold and fearful pall.
We knelt in agony to save
My fathers silver hair,
Ye would not mark the bitter tears,
Nor list the frantic prayer!
And then ye took my mother too:
Ye must remember now
The words that lingered on her lip,
The grief upon her brow;
My sister wept in bitter wo
Her dark and earnest eyes
Asked for the mercy ye will seek
In vain in yonder skies!
But your hearts were like the flinty rock,
And cold as oceans foam;
You tore them from my clasping arms,
And bore them from our home:
And now my brothers ye will slay!
But they are proud and high,
And come with spirits brave and true,
Your tortures to defy.
I will not ask from you their lives,
I will not seek to roll
The clouds of midnight from your hearts;
Ye cannot touch the soul!
But grant my prayer, and I will pray
For you in yonder sky;
Oh, God! I ask a little thing
I ask with them to die!
But the burning words fell cold and lone,
As the suns warm rays on a marble stone;
Life was a curse too bitter and wild
For the broken heart of Earths weary child;
And the stricken one found a self-sought grave
Neath the crystal light of the foaming wave.