Beadle's Dime Library No. 162 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

ee eee ee | TS = ogee oul on = oom “With this determination in my heart I have come here this night.” She had listened to him without a word or movement. Not a quickened breath, or quiver of the lips had shown that she was touched by his re- calling their past in the happy time of youth, No, her heart was callous, and he saw it, and said: ‘Had you, Grace Gregory, as I knew you, shown one atom of heart or soul, one tiny mite of pity or regret, I might have been tempted to spare you. ‘‘But now, merciless as you have been, that merciless will I now be.” ‘‘In God’s name, Duke Gregory, what would ‘Your servants are all asleep, and your maid is unconscious from a drug I adminis- tered to her. Back into her chair sunk the woman, and her face became pallid as that of a corpse. ‘‘In Gol’s name why have you come here?” she gasped forth. ‘For retribution for a wrong,” was the stern response, ** How have I wronged you?” ‘In many ways.” ‘‘ We never met before.” ‘You are mistaken.” “Oh, tell me who you are?” He slowly raised his hand to his head, and | removed his hat, and with it a wig he wore. Then came the beard, and as the cloak | you do?’ she cried, now thoroughly terrified. dropped to the floor, the tall form and white,| ‘Kill you, as I would a viper that had stern face of Duke Gregory were revealed to’! stung me,” he hissed, through his shut teeth. the gaze of the horrified woman, ‘Oh God have mercy!” she groaned. He made no reply for an instant, and then said in his low, deep tones: CHAPTER XXXVI. THE FATAL DRAUGAT. ‘DUKE GREGORY are you mad?” cried the ‘“‘Had there been one atom of mercy in | woman, now in the utmost alarm. your soul, Grace Gregory, 1 would not be now “You have said it, madam; I am mad, and the outcast, murderer, and haunted man I am.” | hence [am not responsible for my acts. ‘* And as such I will have you arrested; ay, ‘* You were sane, and you were responsible I will go to Washington to see that you do not | for your deeds, and they were more damnable escape, and stand by when they put the repe | than mine. arouud your neck to hang you for your “T killed the body; you killed the soul, for crimes,” she cried, with savage vebemence. | Tam utterly and forever lost. He laughed, a low, sneering, mocking laugh, ‘Grace Gregory, you have just ten minutes — and went on as before: to make your peace with Goi.”’ ‘‘ Had there been one atom of mercy in your! He took from his pocket a watch and calmly cold heart, Grace Townsend, my wife and | |.oked at its face. child would not now lie at the bettom of the But instead of prayer, the woman determined sea,” upon flight, and suddenly made a bound for ‘‘They are dead then?” sneered the woman. _ the door, at the same time crying aloud: “Vee,” ‘‘Help! Sophie! Burton! help!” “The shock of knowing whom she had mar- ried doubtless killed the woman,” 4 No. ” ‘* What then?” *‘ She died by her own band.” ** Ah! suicide seems to be a failing in ‘that family; her tather suicided I copie “Ho did.” *‘ And the child?” ‘‘Its mother killed it.” ** A murderess as well as suicide?’ sé Yes. ” “A fitting wife for such a husband; what a pity -he killed herself.” Words cannot portray the deep, wicked satire of the womau, who spoke without seem- ing to feel that she was throwing powder upon a blazing furnace. Had she looked the man squarely in the eyes, she would haye seen there that which would have mude her heart tremble with fear. “You, not poor Eva, are responsible for her act,and our child’s death.” ‘‘Me! why how am I guilty?” and she arched her beautiful brows, “When you knew the secret of my birth, you could have kept it a secret, and prevented Neil Gregory from making it known. ‘‘] had ever loved you, Grace; ever been a true brother to you. ‘‘In the olden time when we were children With mockirg laughter he surung forward, seized her ia his urms, and hissed forth: ‘* Woman, you shall not escape me; you call in vain for help. “Here, I give you your choice of death, for I care not to stain my knife with your life- blood.” He took from his pocket as he spoke a small vial, still holding her firmly in his grasp, while she gazed with wild eyes into his face. ‘Here, this will cause death within one minute’s time, and is painless. ‘‘ You can fol- low the example of my poor wife and take it yourself; or you can die by my kuife. ‘Which shall it be, Grace?’ He spoks with the utmost calmness, and she knew tha* be meant what be said. ‘* Duke, for the love of God! spare me!” 4s No ? ** Remember, Duke, I nearly died once from the powers of that feartul herb, and oh! it was fearful as my life hung between life and deat “What care I?” “T am young, Duke; beautiful, pleasures all before me ** And life’s pain a hell on earth to me now, woman.” “Duke! Brother—” ‘‘ Hold! breathe not that sacred word, for from your lips, Grace Gregory, it is desecra- and life’s together, I yielded to you in everything; and | tion.” when you grew up to girlhood I was proud of “‘T will give you my riches, my all, if you my beautiful sister. will only spare my Jife.” “« When away at sea I wrote you kind bro. “You value it high, for I know what you therly letters; I sent you souvenirs of foreign | are worth.” lauds, and felt so proud when | knew how you; ©‘ Yet all will I give to you, Duke, if you would feel when I won distinction and fame. will spare me,” ‘I came back to find you turn from me ‘“*T will not.” with scorn; to be ordered from the bome I be- lieved my own by one whom you hated and ‘* Not for my entire wealth?” “Your riches will not‘buy back my honor.” yet had married. They will enable you to go to another land, “Not one kind word from you, only scorn | where you are unknown, and live in luxury,” and hatred. ‘*You plead in vain; there is no joy for me in life. ‘*You have your choice; which shall it be, the knife or the poison?’ ‘Neither, oh no! no! no!” ‘1 shall ‘be one.” ‘* Soare me!” ‘* Never!” ‘By the past you spoke of to-night! by the days of our childhood! by asm love for me then, spare me!” “ I say n0, once for all. “Here is the poison, and there the knife; which shall it be?’ ‘‘-Yes, you shall not live here in your pride She shuddered and turned her face away and wealth, you who could have saved me, | from both; but she saw that he was merciless, and yet goaded the bioodhounds on after me; | and stretched out her hand for the poison. no, you shall not live here in happiness, for | Silently he handed it to her, ou can be happy as you have no heart, while Her whole frame trembled as she took it, Tan ap outcast and a wanderer, and her heart fluttered bptac ay $04 “Te was not I that attempted your life; and only when I heard that you were dead did I commit my first crime in taking Leroy Townsend to sea with me and hanging him, with the belief that with his death, my secret would remain buried. ‘* Alas! how was I mistaken! ‘* And now what am I? ‘A hunted man, dishonored, nameless, an outlaw and accursed on the face of God’s earth. «“ But having fallen, Grace Gregory, I have fallen so low that I am determined to seek re- venge upon you. iy ee ph ey e Ma fariner. age ai —- ms 0 — —— — e+ - -_——~——— ; . La nnn ee . - 17 “Tt is painless, you say?” she asked in a husky voice. “sé Yes.” “Oh! I cannot take it,” she cried in heart- rending accents. Silently he raised his knife above her bosom. She glanced up at the gleaming blade, then into bis eyes, and quickly placed the vial to her lips. “TT bave done it,” she said, with strange calmness. -'eee.” “Now your revenge is complete, for you have killed me.” “Your own hand carried the draught to your lips.” * But you forced me to do so; yes, you are my murderer; but you shall not have the joy to stay here and see me die. ‘* Go, sir; I command you!” She drew herself up and pointed to the door. But he did not move. With his eyes fastened upon her, he said sternly: * Grace Gregory, I have made you feel all the pangs of death, and in that I rejoice, for my revenge has been in seeing you suffer, ‘‘Now I tell you that what ft gave you was not poison,” “‘ Not poison! God in heaven, I thank Thee!” sbe almost shrieked, and reeling with the re- vulsion of feeling, she sunk into ber chair. ‘“‘No, the mixture was barmless, and you will live.” ‘* Good, noble Duke.” ‘* Silence! I want no thanks from you, for I let you live to, living, suffer. © ‘IT wish you to see what your acts have made me. ) “And, if you can rest at night, and remorse not gnaw at your soul, then your heart is of brass, and naught earthly can move you. “Grace Gregory, lam no longer myself; my brain is crazed, and when henceforth, living in your luxury, and enjoying life amid your friends, you hear of the Mad Mariner, know that the same blood flowsin bis veins asin your own; know that it is Duke Gregory, and you made him what he becomes.” He turned quickly, and without another word left the room and the house, departing in the same secret and mysterious way in which he had entered, and Grace Townsend, the beau- tiful widow, was alone with her own thoughts, Alone, and still fearing that he was deceiving her, and that the draught he had given her was indeed poison, and would ki'l her. CHAPTER XXXVI. THE JEW AND THE SAILOR. AFTER leaving Hillside Hall, where he left Grace in such an agony of suspense and trepi- dation, Duke Gregory walked rapidly back to the highway, and traversing it for some dis- tance, turned into the path leading to the home of Clarice Bond. A light glimmered in one window, and a rep at the door brought to it Nannie, the wite «f Carl Carter. ‘* They are in the back room, sir, at aE: she said, ushering bim into the house, | At the table sat Clarice Bond and Carl, and there were two other places laid. — One of these Duke Gregory took, aad’ the other was re occupied by Nannie. “T have just been telling Nannie, Duké, that this is her home, and I give her. a paper to- night to that effect. ? ‘You are right, mother; the cabin is not a pleasant place for her to dwell, and I am glad you made her come up here,” ‘*' You see, Duke, all the people round here think that Carl is off on a whaling voyage, and they are very kind to Nannie, and she can be most comfortable here, and it is her home, for if Iam a fugitive myself, lowe mo man any- thing, and can do with my own as I please,” “You are more than kind, Mrs, Bond, and Nannie’s brother will come up from the cabin in the glen and live with her, and she'll be most happy until my return,” said Carl, | And thus they chatted for one hour, until the time to depart came round, and then fare- wells were spoken, and the young wife and ber child were left alone. Walking on together, while Carl Hiigered for a last furewell, Clarice Bond said sadly: ‘Do you know, Duke, I feel as if I would not live long.” ‘‘ Nonsense, mother: you are blue at coming back to the old house,’’ he replied. ‘‘No, Iam not more so than at other times; 900 com fe S Cor ™