Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 138 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

‘‘Begansto smell, I say; they had to. get it out of the house and bury it,” continued Barker, with imperturbable gravity. ‘‘Do you hear him?” exclaimed Harper, get- ting down his cup, and starting from his, seat. “‘The coat—” ‘‘ Mortified and bursted regularly,” said the old hunter, with the greatest tranquillity, as he took a piece of tobacco from his pocket, and cut off a large quid, which he thrust coolly into bis mouth, ‘‘ Boys, we must be off,” said Roberts, when the shouts and laughter had somewhat sub- sided, while Barker, apparently offended at the slight credit given to his narrative, kept his seat stiffly and sullenly upon the block of wood which served him as a stool, and drummed with his fingers upon the table; “ at least, I must go,” continued Roberts, when he saw that no one but Mullins prepared to ac- company him. ‘ My wifeis grumbling already, I know; besides, Rawson is to be there this evening, and there are a good many things to be arranged before the wedding. Will you oblige me by riding home with me, Brown? There is a heap of writing to be done; and, although, in my youth, when we had five writing lessons a week, for which the school- master—” “Tt is impossible for me to do, Mr. Rob- erts,” said Brown, in some embarrassment; ‘‘ besides, the Regulators on the La Fave meet at Bowitt’s to-morrow morning.” “ I thought they were to meet at Smith’s,” said Roberts, ‘Mr. Rawson has been so long preaching to him that such an association was sinful, that he has quit it,” replied Brown, smiling; ‘‘ but that is a mutter of no consequence. Bowitt doesn’t live far from him; we are all almost equally distant from his bouse, and then he isa ‘warm advocate of our cause.”’ ‘‘ Nothing further hes been discovered, then, concerning Heathcote’s murder?” ‘‘ Nothing. You know that immediately after the deed general suspicion fell upon me, and it was even resolved upon that I should be arrested a day or two after the murder of Alapaha; but this was given up for want of evidence, and as, besides, I could prove by Haswell, who accompanied me a ways that morning, that I did not wear boots, but moc- casins—although I had a pair of boots, like those which made those tracks, in my saddle- bags. With this all suspicion ceased, for the only person in the whole neighborhood who wears such boots is Mr. Rawson, and no one could presume to suspect him.” Roberts looked up in astonishment. ‘“ And still,” he said, ina low voice to himself, ‘‘the murdered man suspected him, He never could bear the preacher,” ‘* Unfortunately, it has rained a little almost every morning this spring,” continued Brown, ‘‘and the tracks were soon washed out, No one recognizes the little knife that we fourd near the body.” ‘‘A penknife,” muttered Roberts to him- self, » “But we have not yet given up all hope; although we have appeared idle for some time past, yet we have, iu truth, been active enough, and suspicion is falling here and there upon certain people, whom I, for my part, would never have suspected.’’ ‘‘What has become of the man that was overtaken with the horses that night?” ** Johnson?’ returned Cook, ‘They say he -has been seen here again, but whether to stop in these parts, or whether he was merely riding through, I don’t know.” ‘Brown, you could do me a favor when you ride into the settlement,” said Roberts; ‘‘ when do you start?” ‘‘In about half an hour. Lintended to pass the night at Wilson’s.” | ‘Good! Then you will reach Atkins’s early in the morning; and I wish you would ask him to remain at bome next Monday, as Rawson and I mean to ride over to look at the farm. May I depend upon you?” Brown promised not to forget the commis- sion; Roberts then drew on bis clothes, which were now completely dry, and soon left the hut to ride home, accompanied by Mullins, CHAPTER VIII. Atmost three weeks had elapsed since the evening on which Brown and Marion had bid each other farewell. He had sworn never to wee her and he had faithfully kept his vow; but what he had suffered during this in- The Border Bandits. terval, how he had wrestled with his heart, none knew but he; and his face bad grown pale, and his eyes had lost their former vivacity and luster. Nothing would have induced him to remain longer in a place where he was sv soon to witness the sacrifice of a being at whose side he would bave found a life replete with happiness and delight. Before going, however, he wished at least to see his good name restored in the eyes of the world, that no stain might cleave to it—that no venomous tongue might soil it with calumnious rumors. Marion, he was convinced, did not deem him capable of such a crime, but his friends also must be satisfied of his innocence; for, much as they were attached to him, the greater part of them considered him guilty of the murder, al- though they justified it. When mention was made of the money, they shrugged their shoulders and said: ‘“‘It could have done the dead man no good to have thrown the money into the river with him,” He was resolved to discover and punish the criminal, and to avenge the death of Alapaha, Then he would leave a land where nothing but pain and grief was henceforth reserved for him. And what were Marion’s feelings toward the friend whom she knew to be so near, and still, alas, so distant? The heart of woman is strong, and breaks only with the keenest suffering; but the young girl felt that she was doing her duty, and in this thought she found some solace to her woe. Rawson had received her promise; it is true when she gave it she did not then know the man at the first sight of whom sha was destined to learn the meaning and import of the word “love,” but it. had been given freely, without constraint, and she could not withdraw it. And how could she answer it to her God, if she were to break the heart of one man, and this one her plighted bridegroom, to render another happy? Had not Rawson, with his soft and musical voice, lately said to her that his earthly happiness was to be found with her alone? that the sight of her countenance was to him what air and sunshine were to the plant? that her presence diffused a calm and holy glow through his soul, and that he should despair were he to lose her now? Alas! on that night the poor girl bedewed her pillow with scalding tears; no eye beheld them, but her anxious and harassed soul found comfort,. and consolation, and courage, in prayer, and she awoke on the following morn- ing firm and composed. Rawson had passed the night in their dwelling; and on the next day she told her mother, amid tears and sobs, and with a faltering voice, that she was ready to unite herself forever with the man whom her parents had chosen for her, as soon as they thought it best. Her delighted mother clasped her to her bosom, and her father kissed her upon the forehead, and said: “Take him, if you think you can be happy with him. May you be happy as you deserve to be!” Since then, Rawson had gone to Memphis, and was expected back almost every hour. It was again Friday, exactly fourteen days after the fearful evening on which the poor squaw fell beneath the hands of the cowardly assassin, Tbe sun stood high above the green, waving tops of the noble group of trees which grew, crowded closely together, near. the border of the little field, as if firmly resolved to resist all further inroads from the hand of man. Life and animation, in the meanwhile, prevailed in and around old Roberts’s dwelling, Marion, with a small basket upon her arm, was standing amid a fluttering, crackling brood of chickens, and strewing the yellow corn over the clean yard; while, on the other side of the low fence, a litter of grunting pigs were seeking in vain for admission, that they might share in the abundant meal. Her mo- ther was sitting near, gazing with a smile at the busy scene, when Marion suddenly uttered a low cry, and dropped from her hands the now-empty basket which she was about to take into the house. Mr, Rawson was standing near the fenca, and now greeted her with a friendly, smiling mien. He had completed his business, and had come to claim his bride, ‘* What’s the matter?” cried her mother, startled for a moment by her exclamation; then, however, following ber daughter’s glance, she perceived her long and eagerly expected son-in-law, and said, reaching bim her hand: “Well, this is handsome, Mr. Rawson—very handsome in you, to return so soon; we have been anxiously expecting you.” 18 ‘“‘ And Marion, likewise?” asked the preacher, smiling,, as he stepped over the low. fence,, clasped the hand of the blushing, maiden, and pressed it gently to his lips—‘‘ and, Marion, likewise?’ “I am very glad to see. you well and hearty again,” replied the young girl, in a whisper, ‘You know that you are always. welcome here.” ‘In your house—but in your heart also, Marion?’ asked Rawson, urgently, The maid- en trembled, and was silent, ‘‘ Marion,’’ con- tinued the preacher, after a short pause, ‘the blessing. of Heaven has attended me in my journey: I have now enough of worldly lucre to be able to settle here in a condition suitable to our moderate station. Marion, will you be mine— will you on the next Sabbath, the day. of the Lord, become my wife?” ‘*'Yes,” answered ber mother, with emotion, as she drew the trembling, speechless child. to her bosom—*‘‘ yes, worthy sir; she bas alread confessed to me that her heart is yours, and [ am sure that you will render her bappy.”’ ‘“‘ All that stands in my power, in the power of a poor, sinful mortal,” replied the preacher, raising his eyes devoutly toward Heaven, ‘I will do; and I think that Marion is convinced of this. May I not hope it, at least?” The lovely girl gave him her hand in silence, which he pressed once more to his lips, while. Marion sobbed aloud upon her mother’s bosom. “Well, Mr. Rawson,” said old Roberts, who at this moment appeared at the fence, ‘ you have kept your word, then? How stands the business?” *‘ Excellently, Mr. preacher, joyfully, ‘‘even better than I had expected; and Ihave come to beg for your blessing upon our union on the ensuing Sab- bath.” *‘ But won’t that be too much in a hurry for the girl?” asked Roberts, as he gave his horse. to a negro-boy, and, stepping over the fence, approached them. ‘She has consented,” interposed her mother, ‘‘and we need but little preparation here in the woods. _ But, Mr. Rawson, what kind of order is your house in?’ “IT would entreat you both to examine it. this morning, if you can spare the time,” re- plied the preacher. ‘It is small and bumble, indeed, but I shall probably come to terms with Atkins this week, and purchase his; then we can move around a little more at our ease.” ‘But wouldn't it be better to defer the wed- ding until you have done so?” inquired Roberts. “Tt would save a great deal of time and trou- ble; and then Marion, I am sure, would prefer. moving at once to a snug little farm, than staying awhile in a log-but.” “That can not be denied,” replied Rawson, “but it is still uncertain when Atkins leaves the settlement—it may be four or five weeks yet; and, my dear Mr. Roberts, you can not. blame me if, now that so many obstacles are removed, I should be impatient to call Marion my wife,” i _- ** Well, then,” responded the old man, ‘ take her; and may you be Lappy together!” Thanks! my best thanks!” cried Rawson, grasping his hand wiih emotion. .‘‘Marion shall never regret having intrusted her future fatein my hands. But now, farewell, my dear parents—permit me to call you so already— and soon—” 7} ' ‘‘ Bat won’t. you. spend the evening here?” asked Mrs. Roberts. ‘* You have been so. long —and it really isn’t quite right to leave Marion always alone.” : : “The time is short, my good Mrs, Roberts,” replied Rawson, sighing; “and here in our settlement, where the neighbors live so far apart, a day passes very quickly, in accom- plishing very little. But I hope to have every- thing arranged by to-morrow night; and I can then, at least, spend the last evening in your company, and the company of my bride.” _ “Very well, very well, Mr, Rawson,” said the old man, ‘that’s all right; you have been from home now a week, and of course there is u good deal to be attended to. To-morrow evening then, we shall see you again. y-the- by, we go to Atkins’s on Monday, I suppose?” ‘“* Certainly,” answered the preacher. , “Very well, then,” continued Roberts. ‘I asked Brown this evening to give him notice; he will pass there early in the morning, on his way to the meeting of the Regulators, that’s to be held at Bowitt’s.” “T was told that the Regulators had dis- banded,” replied Rawson, somewhat more Roberta,” replied the. EMRMICLOOOKS 3(EC) ie,