Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 105 — page 17: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

a oe ee ee ow os - — es ee a es ee 0+ _-—~—- At that moment the second outlaw burst through the bushes, and uttered a loud cry of warning. Captain Moonshine attempted to turn his captive’s horse around to flee, but the animal was greatly excited and stubbornly resisted. Then a horseman came in view around the turn, and taking in the situation at a giance, im- mediately opened fire upon the outlaws as he boldly charged down upon them. At the first shot, the second outlaw, who had wheeled beside his leader, and was leveling a revolver, uttered a fierce curse as his pistol hand fell suddenly to his side. The courage seemed completely taken out of him by this mishap end wheeling his berse once more, he dashed awny at breakneck speed. Crack—crack in swift succession spoke the revolver of the bold rescuer, and reeling in his saddle, with a horrible yell of bitter agony, Captain Moonshine fell forward upon the neck of his horse, which sped swiftly away after the other road-agent. So rapidly had all this transpired that almost ere Rachel could realize the fact, she was free, end a friendly voice was uttering encouragin werds in her ear. Then her tensely straine rerves gave way, and as a dizzy blackness whirled around her senses, she would have fallen from the saddle only for the support lent her by strong arms. Her swoon lasted only for a few minutes, then her eyes opened and she recognized the pale, anxious face of Frank Blackwood bending over ber, while David Crabtree, sobbing softly, was nervously clapping ber cold hands. ‘Tere is nothing more to fear, Rachel,” said Frank, soothingly. ‘*‘ The scoundrels have fled and are now far away, unless they have drop- red dead from the saddle. Becalm. You are safe, now. A thousand such rascals could not do you barm aslong as I draw the breath of life.” The ardent gaze which he bent upon her pale face, spoke far more plainly than his words, and with a faint flush chel gently withdrew herself from bis arms. ‘‘Catch the horses, David,” said Blackwood, also rising. Apperently but little the worse for his chok- ing, the lad at once obeyed, and taking advan- tage of his absence, Frank said: ‘‘Am [right in my surmise that one of those men was the notorious road-agent, Captain Moonshine?” Rachel bowed. Just then she could not trust herself to speak. ‘« Tn strict confidence, father told me all that oceurred on night before last. He admitted that al] the necessary forms were complied with, and that the marriage was a strictly legal one. Yet both be and I are confident that the bond can be broken, if you will only give us full per- mission to fight your battle. Rachel, my dear playmate, for your sake—to win one kind word irom your lips, I could perform even a more arduous task than that. Tell me—” His speech was cut short by the return of David with the horses, nor was Rachel eat There was an ardent glow in the eyes of the young lawyer that confused while it vaguely alarmed her, and she was only too glad of*an excuse for evading a reply, until she had some- what composed her mind. Frank tenderly lifted ber into the saddle, and they turned their faces toward the not distant ranch. There were few words spoken. All seemed seriously impressed by the exciting scenes through which they had passed. But as they rode along, there was a tender devoted air about every little attention which the young lawyer was able to show Rachel, that painfully embarrassed the young lady, and made her very glad when the door of the Grabtree ranch was gained, Mrs. Crabtree came forth to welcome their return, and she was accompanied by a slight, delicate-appearing lady, in whose eyes a look of unmistakable borror gradually deepened as she caugbt a fair view of Frank Blackwood’s face. Nor was be much less agitated. It was as though some haunting vision of the past bad unexpect- edly risen up to accuse him! CHAPTER XVIL. A WRONGED WOMAN’S HATRED. EVEN Mrs. Crabtree could hot help but notice the strong emotion which mutually seized upon her two guests, and while one motherly arm was unobtrusively passed around the young lady’s waist as a support, she gave them beth time to recover some degree of composure by introducing thestranger first to Rachel and then to Frank Blackwood. The young lawyer was the first to recover his natural audacity, for he saw that their weapons were not far from equal, and the case far more favorable than he at first believed. He saw, too, that Rachel wes eying him closely and wonder- inely. The strong excitement and agitation which he had involuntarily exhibited at this un- expected resurrection of the dark past, he felt hod injured him in her estimation, just when he ad sired to stand the bichest, and he madea bold si: oke toretrieve his slip. ‘*? must seem a very boor to you ladies,” he sail, with a faint laugh, ‘Indeed, [am hardly ywayself, Something yery like a sunstroke this Dan Brown of Denver. ——e———————EE LL morning, then the excitement of our little ad- venture with the road-agents, and now the un- expected meeting with one whom I have mourn- ed as dead for years—ail taken togetler, has | proved a little too much for my brain.” “Then Mrs. Gill—with whom I had the pleas- ure of journeying from Denver almost to Grena- da—and you have met before?’ asked Rachel, her vague suspicion vanishing. ‘“When she was some years younger than now—but not more beautitul—vyes,” responded Blackwood, with a low bow as they centered the house together. ‘“ Until now dead, and from the strong agitation she dis- played, no doubt she was as terribly deceived— am | right, Agnes?’ ** No—I knew vou were living,” came the re- sponse from the pale, stotuesque woman, in low but strangely cold tones. ‘‘Then you must have believed me false—” > I believed her | /to a weak, sniveling woman. came to them. ‘*No—I knew it,” Mrs. Gill uttered in the | same tone. Blackwood breathed a soft sigh, and his fair face clouded. ‘* Ah, our mutual enemies knew me better than to attack me on that point. They would have failed. Nothing but the evidence of my own eyesight could have convinced me that you were false. It is a painful story, ladies,” he added, turning to Rachel and Mrs. Crabtree, who were feeling far trom at case at having this peculiar scene thrustupon them. ‘A ‘Very ainful story of treachery and wrong-doing. You will excuse me, | know, from entering in- to details. Enough that, some years ago, this lady, now the happy wife of our mutual friend, Jobn Gill, and I were very dear friends—iovers in fact. Though in ignorance of the fact, those who pretended to be our truest friends, were re- ally enemies, and jlot‘ed secretly for our separ- ation. In the end they sneceeded—but why say more? The past is past—let itdie away againit that be possible.” Through all this hurried, almost incoherent explanation, Mrs. Agnes Gill sat with ber great dark eyes fixed upon the speaker. There was not a trace of color in her face. A statue of marble could not be colder or more unmoved in outward appearance, save once when Rachel saw her thin lip curl scornfully as she thought, when Frank Blackwood attempted an extra touch of the pathetic. And seeing that, the maiden’s suspicions of something evil hidden under all this, returned to her mind with re- doubled force. Whet ground the young lawyer ing conduct that day, was now more than lost by this equivocal situation, Mrs. Giil was the first to break up the uncom- fortable sitting. Arising, she declared that she must return home. That she had only riddeu over to inquire how Ruth was getting along, her husband having: r« ported her sudden illness had gained in her good graces by his bold, dasb- | 'not care—all I could say would not bring on remorse to your eye! when he rode hore fora few minutes during | the past night, anc. idden her pay a neighborly Visit to see ifshe couid be of any service. After a brief inierchange of civilities, which need not be recoried here, Mrs. Gill turned to curse!’ Frank Blackwood and with a smile that fairly | transfigured her pale face, said: “Will you be +o kind as to escort me home, Mr. Blackwood? of this morning. | eam almostafraid to ride so far alone.” Again Rachel fancied there was more in the words than aprenred on the surface; that the request was a command, though admirably dis- guised. She th: upLi, too, that the voung law- yer was reiucts }\( to accept, though his response was admirable i) i‘s courtesy. A few minutes later the twain were in the / was well that the little one was gone. A‘ter your terrible adventure | —— Mrs. Gill, once more in that cold, monotoncus saddle and riding siowly over the pin toward | the cattle ranc:: of honest Jack Gill. _ could give you grounds for obtaining a divorce. Now that there were no other eyes upon them | the truth was plainiy revealed in their faces, tones and actions. ‘So, my lecy,” said Blackwood, first break- ing the silence, and speaking in a coarse, hard tone that corresponccd well with the brutal ex- pression upon | is face, ‘you have laid yourself open to the charge of bigamy!” “ffso, youare the only person living who can prove the crime, and utter) devilish as you are, you dare not bring the chergeageinst me,” was the firm response, and as she spoke, the wo- mon’s eyes glittered like living coals, ‘The balance of power is inwmy hands new!” Rachel’s intuitions had net deceived her. There was a bond between these two people, aud nearly every word of the explanation vol- unteered by Frank Blackwood was a lie. Years before, when both were young, he and this woman, then a gay, laughter-loving, spoiled child, bad first met. Handsome. gifted with a strong magnetism and many qualities that car- ry most women by storm, the voung lawyer wooed and won Agnes Dorgan, but it was more from a desire to finger the money of her father than for love of herself. In this he was fated to disappointment. There came a disastrous season, followed by a panic Among the. houses that went to pieces was that of Miles Dorgan, end when his affairs came to be wound and crash in business circles. up, it was found that every thing was lost _ for it promised me revenge upon you / | The orrible y ‘ | Of the girls, was deemed fair e LZ . ° 7 - -_-e —- —- oo The old merchant did not long survive. The disgrace proved more than le cou!d bear, and one morning be was found dead in bed. His wiie buried him, and then quietly faded away, the end of the month finding Agnes an orphin, Frank, too, was involved. He had put bis little fortune into the business, intending it to turn out golden nest-eggs. It was swallowed up by the wreck, and as the cloud of suspici. » also hung over him, he soon found himsc:: oe to leave the city, and went further est. Always gay and inclined to dissipation, Black. wood went rapidiy to the bad, making his living by gambling and still more questionatle prac- tices. He grew brutal and moody at home often openly cursing his folly in tying hbimeel Nor was ther much change for the better when a little batc It is an unpleasant picture, and as rapidly a: possible we pass over it. Matters went from bad to worse, until Fram! Blackwood committed a crime that caused bin: to flee the town, finally bringing up in Denve) It was at this place that he _ the cap-sheaf 10 his villainy by deserting his wife and child, leaving them penniless and friendless in strange cit7. ‘* No doubt you thought I would die of grie”, or else commit suicide in my despair,” sai: Agnes Gill, in the cold, hard tone she had mai) tained throughout. ‘‘But there you were mi taken. So long as you remained with me, | was your humble, willing slave, incapable c/ taking an independent step; but with you wen the diabolical magnetism which had made mo vour blind thrall—and for the first time I saw youin your real colors. And then I was glad tha’ you were gone. Still, had lonly pine? think for, it may be that 1 would have done as you doubtless wished—have set you free by filling a suicide’s grave. But there was my child; and for it I fought the terrible battle for bread. ‘Of all that I endured, when winter came on. [ do not care to speak. The mere thoue).t arouses a dangerous devil in my heart—'a:\ gerous to me, to you, toallaround me! Wh‘ 1 then suffered turned me from a God-fearii « woman into something close akin to a fienv. And yet, while baby lived, I was not all ba: . It was the one link that bound me to humanity. ‘“‘It took sick that cold and terrible winter. It bad a strong constitution, and with proyy r nourishment, would have lived. But there ws only one way in which that nourishment cou! be procured. At times I was powe1 wy tem)’ ed, but as often the good angel that looked fro: baby’s hollow eyes, held me back. “Bah! why linger over the story? You d look of shame to your brazen cheek, one tear u. ‘Baby died—starved to death. And its bloor rests upon your head, together with a mothe’: Through all this, Frank Blackwood listene« with a hard, cynical smile upon his face. Tl: woman spoke truly. He did not care. Hi. heart was hardened beyond feeling remorse. | Be on! felt regret that the mother had not borne i. company into the grave. Yet be was wise enough to keep these reflec- tions close between his teeth. He saw that sho was terribly excited, and he knew that cne un-- lucky word might prove the last feather. ‘*t was ill to death’s door for months, and awoke to find myself in a hospital,” resumed voice. ‘*As I lay there recovering slowly, | made avow. I would never do anything tha‘ As soon as I was able, I would bunt you up. learn all the black secrets of your life, and ther hover near you, ready to foil your dearest plans. and expose you when you fancied yourself the most secure. But I found it easierto plan than to execute. “| was discharged from the hospital, cured but miserably weak and penniless. As best | could, I fought the hard fight, only the hope «i being avenged upon you forall my suffering and Hie i keeping me irom sinking by the way- side. ‘*Slowly I regained my strength, and some remnants of my former beauty and gracefulress of form. You remember how, in the days wher you came courting, you used to praise my voic: and execution. Thcce talents I now turned t: good use—and became a favycrite balladist in ; variety hall! And not only that, but under n ° rightful name, as your wife |” A fierce, grating curse broke from the mn ° lips, and an angry red spot came cut on es¢i cheek. The woman laughed icily as she saw how true the poisoned shaft had sped home. ‘* That was only for a brief ‘time. The man. ager was astute, and he knew that a ‘miss drew better than a ‘madam; so he offered we a slight increase of salary if I would change my name, and I did so. Money was my god, then, ** The life was a } one. I, like the reet al the siekenes REPT gs of the place; Day eom Ehbooks-com