Beadle's Dime Library No. 162 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

| | | | ae ee 4 = a 3-48 ee es — ~~ | se > guise so complete that my mother will not re- cognize me in it, for capture to me means iIn- stant death, and I have decided not to die yet awbile.” The man’s nature was sai ps 4 changing, and with bis reckless humor the look of intense sad- ness that had haunted his face of late was fad- ing away. Dressed in tris neat sailor suit Car] Carter left the yacht, in its little yawl, while Clarice Boud, as soon as he had departed from the capiu, turned to her son and suid: ‘‘ Duke, you are hiding something from me.” “How mean you, mother?” ‘* In coming here.” ‘**] meant not to.” ‘‘'Why have you returned to the very spot from whence you escaped?” ‘This port and city would be the last place in which I would be sought, so I am compara- tively safe.” ‘*Tbat is not your only reason.” sc No. ” ** You have another, Duke?” ““T have, mother, and you seem obtuse in not having discovered it.” “*T confess to it then.” *‘ Have you forgotten that I am married?’ “Hal in my anxiety for you, I had forgotten your poor wite.” “{ bad not.” **Poor girl, all this will reach her ears,” said the mother, sadly, ‘* Yes, and it will break her heart unless I can see her and tell her that I am not at all to blame, and unless she can see you.” ‘* Would to Heaven I could see her,” « You shall.” ‘* But how?” ‘*T will seek her.” ** But where?” “This is her old home; here we were mar- ried, and though she may not be here now, there are those that will know where she is.” “*T fear not.” ‘*l am hopeful, for, where had she to go, after that wretch, Neil Gregory, drove her from his door, the possessor of the fateful secret regarding me.” ‘Would that I had known who she was, gladly would [ have taken her and her child to my heart and my home,” said Clarice with feel- g. ‘** | know it, mother; ab, my poor, poor chila; what an inheritance will I leave it.” ‘* It must never know, Duke.” ‘*No, if must never know, and wither the tongue that tells it,” he said fiercely; and then he added in a pitiful tone: ** Would to high Heaven poor Eva, my dar- lirg wife, had never known.” But she will not desert you, though she does | know, Duke.” ‘So 1 feel, mother; if I thought the contrary, and that my child would be raised to hate its father, | would go mad, yes, mad! mad! mad!” He almost shrieked forth the words, and his mother, seeing the wild look upon his face, — and put her hand soothingly upon his w. “Mother,” he said after a short silence, ‘wrong and blighted love made you wicked, for you are wicked, having done some evil things; but if my wife turns against me, by the God above, | will become a very demon. “Ay, I will follow my accursed father’s ad- vice, and yours too, and flaunt the black flag on the seas, and woe be to those who would hunt me down, for they would find a madman upon the quarter-deck, and a mad crew at the guus. “Duke, my poor boy, you frighten me b our words and manner; ay yourself for if va is the woman I believe her to be, she will never turn from you in your dire grief and ame. ‘*So I believe, mother, and thisis why I came back here; this is why I have sent Carl ashore after a disguise, for 1 intend to search for her.” ‘You must be cautious, Duke.” ‘*Cautious? do they not say madmen are ever cunning and cautious? ‘* Well, I believe I am mad, mother, so have o fear. ‘“‘If Eva deserts me, then will I be mad in- eed. ‘*Ha! ha! ha! the Mad Mariner,” and with this mocking laughter, the poor fellow went on deck, while bowing her face in her hands with grief, Clarice Bond cried in bitterness of Lond “Good God! his sorrows have turned his braia, and he is mad,” CHAPTER XXI THE JEW PEDDLER. 3 On, I cannot believe it; no, I cannot believe ‘Yet it is true, Eva.” ‘‘ Were it true, then his shame would be my shame and his child’s.” ‘‘Eva Raymond, you are a fool.” “Tam not Eva Raymond, but Eva Gregory, for his name is mine, dishonored though it be, and if I am a fool, I am at least not sinful.” The 8 ers were a man and woman. The former was perbaps thirty years of age, ae ee ~~ ~The Mad Mariner. eae eee ee fashionably attired, and would have been hand- some were it not that his face was marred by reckless dissipation. His name was Henry Moreland, and he was supposed to be a very wealthy young man, or would be at his father’s death, though he squan- dered money witb a lavish hand in wild dissi- | pation and extravagances, _ The woman the reader has met before, for it is she that was Eva Raymond, and whom Duke Gregory had made his wife. Still wondrously beautiful, even more so than when first met by the reader on the Monarch in Mobile Bay, she is yet very pale, and a con- stant look of expectation, of hope deferred, haunts her beautiful eyes. She is attired neatly, but plainly, and her rooms show that she does not live Juxuriously. A parlor and bedroom are all, and they are plainly furnished, yet comfortable. In one corner is a crib, in which sleeps a young child, and in frout of the mother is an easel with a half-finished picture upon it. ‘‘Drop that man’s name, Eva, for he will surely be hanged, while it is already dishonored by bis birth. “Take your old name—” ““ Which is loaded down with debt and stained Fg suicide of my poor father,” she said, sadly. “'The world will forgive debt and suicide, Eva, but not—” ‘Silence! you shall no longer slander my husband, Henry Moreland. ‘You are my cousin, yes, and you sought my love before I met Duke Gregory, and I refused it; then, in my misfortune, you alone came to my aid, and rented these rooms and furnished them for me, and allowed me the chance to mea!:e my own living through my painting. ‘* But now, Henry, you come to me, and urge that I give up my husband and become your wife. “Tt is an insult, and you know it, for I love him, and am bound to him, and—” ‘¢ But the law will release you under the cir- cumstances.” ‘‘T wish no release, nor shall I ask for any; I have not heard Duke’s side of the story yet, and I believe he is more sinned against than sinning.” “T repeat, Eva, you are a fool; I would give you a luxurious home, and even care for his child, while—” ‘* Henry Moreland, leave me, and never again darken that door, for you insult me by your offer, as you know well that you do. ‘‘T owe you a sma!) sum of money, but it shall be paid, for thank God I am able now to save a few dollars from my work. Go, sir, and know that I read your base heart, and have be- fore, only, as the only tie I had to connect me with my kindred and the past, I have not want- ed to give you up. sé Go .”’ She arose to her full hight, and Pr to the door, while her lips curled and her eyes flashed with indignant scorn. ‘*T shall obey, my beautiful Eva, but I do not give you up. “*T registered a solemn oath when you were but fifteen that you should be mine, an‘ the six years that have passed since, have not caused me to forget it. ‘You earn your living with your brush, do you? Well, I have caused those paintings to be bought, as you would not take money from me; but now we shall see if you can keep yourself and that brat from starving. ‘* And when P bing do grow hungry, when that child screams for food you have no money to buy, come to me, and I will take care of you. ‘** Adieu, my sweet cousin Eva.” He bowed satirically, took his hat from the table and left the room, almost knocking down : person who seemed just about to knock at the oor. ‘* Mine Got! ish you vants to kill a mansh? cried the individual in question, and whose visage none could mistake for other than a ey f fif h ith @ was a man oO ty perhaps, with gray hair and beard, and wore large spectacles, which did not wholly conceal his black eyes, ~~ full Me yao . - noe is pon his back he carried a pack, designatin his occupation as a peddler of small wares, an in his hand he held a long, stout cane, ‘‘Curse you, Jew, what do you want here?’ said the exquisite Henry Moreland, angrily, rubbing his shins, which had come in rude con- tact with the peddler’s cane. ‘**]T ish vant to see your ladish, mine fri’nt.” ** Oh, yes, you e t to drive a trade, but little it is you’ll do there, for the lady is a pauper, sir; has not a dollar in the world ex- cept what my charity has given her, and I in- tend to cut that off now.” ‘‘Tsh dat so?’ queried the Jew. “Yes; but goin and see if you can drivea bargain with her, for the sooner she spends the little she has on follies, the sooner she will come And flinging the door again, H n nging open the door a enry Moreland said with sarcasm: ‘‘ Here, my sweet cousin, is a gentleman from Jerusalem, with all the styles and fashions, and nick-nacks in abundance to tempt your plethoric **Buy of him out of the plenty that you have—” “Henry Moreland have you no mercy?” and the poor woman raised her head from ber hands, where they had sunk, upon his depart- ure, and gazed appealingly at bim. **Mercy! I know not the word, unless you do as I wish.” ~ aye Se sir, I do not par our wares; I sm poor, oh, so very poor, and have no money,” and Eva turned tothe Jew peddler. : ‘Yes, Jew, she is poor in pocket, but rich in beauty; but she has a few dollars left, and if you bave a good new rope, strong encugh to support a man’s weight, she will purchase it, as a present to her accursed husband, who is to be hanged in a few days,” A shriek for mercy from poor Eva, as she sunk down in her chair, anda grow!, such as a wild beast might utter in anger, mingled to- gether. Then, with the spring of a panther, the Jew dler was upon the insulter, a knife gleamed in his hand, and once, twice, thrice, it descend- ed into the bosom of Harry Moreland, dyeing the ruffled shirt-front crimson. A stifled cry, a groan, a gasping, and Harry Moreland sunk dead in bis tracks, and over him bent the Jew peddler, his red-dyed knife in hand, bis pack still upon. bis beck, and uncon- scious upon the floor lay Eva, at the foot of ber easel, while the bbe child, awakened by the noise, half raised itself in its crib and gazed wonderingly upon the tragic scene. CHAPTER XXX. DRIVEN BY FATE. THE fearful tableau in the rooms of Eva Gregory lasted for an instant, each figure re- maining as quiet as though carved in stone. Then the Jew turned and glanced at the fallen form of the woman, and cried, with no accent in his tone: ‘*Good God! what have I done? Oh cruel Fate, do you still drive me on, and have you no mercy upon me?” His ery was piteous in the extreme, aud throwing aside his pack he knelt by the side of the woman, and placed his hand upon her heart, “She has fainted. God grant she soon re- cover, for if I have found her to lose her I will indeed go mad,” He raised her in his arms, with as much care as though she were a child, and carrying her into the adjoining room placed her upon the bed. “Now let me put this hideous form from sight ere she recovers,” he muttered. He bent over the dead body of Harry More- land as he spoke, and then glanced around for a place to hide it in, But none met his eve, Going to the door he looked cautiously out- side, and his gaze fell upon a wood box which was standing near. It was locked; but a bunch of burglars’ keys taken from his pocket, quickly unfastened it. In the bottom was a little kindling, and that was all. Returning tothe room he raised the body and placed it in the box, again locking it. The little child had in the meantime dropped back on its pillow and gone to sleep. With cautious tread he crossed over to the crib, and bending kissed its red lips, while the tears started to his eyes. With a low moan, as though he suffered great mental anguish, he turned away and entered the bedchamber. Eva, beautiful as a marble image, lay still unconscious, “My God! what shall I do?’ murmured the man. ‘“*T dare not call for help, for in returning to consciousness, and beholdiug me, she may betray all— Ab! I will go after my mother and bring her here.” He imprinted a kiss on the white face of the insensible woman, seizing his pack threw it upon his back and quickly left the room and house, At a rapid pace he hurried down toward the harbor, and securing a boatman bade him row him out to a trim craft that lay at anchor not far away. Paying the boatman, who rapidly rowed shoreward for another fare, he entered the cabin, where a woman and two men were seated at their evening meal. ‘“What! back so soon, Duke?” cried the woman rising. ‘Yes, back again, and still dogged by ac- 0)(0)(0) (ECO NMC cS (E(o) 4