Beadle's Dime Library No. 395 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

—— — —— s ** An’ me lyin’ aslape loike a fattenin’ hog, whin it’s the best t’um on the two hands av me I’d’a’ gev to see that same divarshin! The crook- ed luck that kapes poilin’ an top av some poor eo * divils! An’ it’s me they tell he roared an’ a danced an’ capered most beautifully!” ‘“‘T hardly understand you, Murphy,” slowly uttered Barringer, finding it difficult work to keep his tones steady and even. ‘*Ts it the sthory that comes from up the river, your hanner?” tee ‘*'Your manner of speaking about Fairview. | Of course the lady is heiress to it, as well as all _ the other property belonging to old Wellspring, : but—” eA! x ‘*That wanst belonged to him, your hanner,” 4 _ . eorrected Murphy, with a low bow. “ ‘What! you don’t mean to say that he’s dead?’ ejaculated Duke, his pupils dilating & strongly. Bie? ‘** Sure, sor, ’tisn’t the loikes av Murtogh Mur- iw hy w’u’d say onythin’ conthrary to your likin’, we t that’s the sthory that come down-river this same night that’s last past. An’ more be token, I’m thinkin’ that Misther Cramp himsilf was the missinger! Annyway, it was somethin’ loike that he dhropped whin waitin’ fer his nag, though av it was to mate your hanner here he agreed, mebbe it was a lie he lied.” rs. ‘* You are positive you could not have mis- taken his meaning?” persisted Duke, strangely _ agitated for a man of his mental caliber. Sy ae ‘* Divil a mishtake, sor, onless the gintlemon _ _. made it himself be way av a lie, just to kape his ys eppery tongue in practice. Be ir me hoss, Murphy, quick as the divil’ll let ye do it! It’s bad news I’m carryin’, no less!’ An’ Lhe av he wasn’t glad to be the mail, sor, it’s the _ _. firskt toime Murtogh Muxpby made so wide a 2 ess at so plain a mark. Bad news, says ; he! An’ yec’u’d see the laugh stickin’ out av eee { the two ocyes av him—longer than a fut, so ye PA}, eu'd!” oo ‘But he told you—” or, “That he must make haste to Fairview, sor. ' That he was hurryin’ to fetch back Miss Well- Se : ring to catch the boat that pulls out the morn’, he $ sor. hat it was to go an’ resave the lasht f * ‘ blessin’ av her father, sor, who luxy dead an’ wer . a me h yin’ the slowest I knowed how, sor, to | putt aff the bitther black sorrow he was makin’ such haste to pour out on the poor leddy, sor— __, divil break him up fer kindlin’ wood!” splut- tered Murphy, divided by curiosity regarding the strange agitation shown by Duke, his sor- yow for the fatherless, and hatred toward the man who seemed in such haste to deliver the fatal message. ay With an effort Barringer regained control over his features, and questioned the [Irishman a 4 2 Ass iy death of Romulus ellspring, that he was bound for Fairview to escort Miss Wellspring to -. town, that they were to take the boat leaving for up-river in the morning. ere “the blow will prove a severe one to more ‘2 .* than that r girl,” he said gravely, as he aM. a the reins of his horse, which a groom at that moment led to thedoor. ‘ It shocked even me, though I generally have pretty steady + nerves, Long ago, the old gentleman did me Tee 8 t favor, and I have not forgotten it % MB, vet” Co “He was moighty koind an’ ginerous, sor, so . -T’'ve been tould,” bowed Murphy, hastening to hold the bler’s stirrup. ‘t May the Hivens Ce! be his AS, may Pather sind some av his ‘Spare angels to woipe the wet oyes av the swate ~ Jeddy left bebind!” _.. Duke Barringer swung himself into the saddle Cbs and rode away. Ne oe CHAPTER V. ae FLUTTERING INTO THE SNARE. APPARENTLY Rufus Cramp had had time to expend or conquer the heartless pleasure which had given the worthy stable-keeper such offense, for as he drew rein before the house at Fairview Nie bf face was grave, even a little pale and worn, __-while if anything “stuck out of his eyes,” it vas _. rather anxiety than hilarity. «uate oe eer dressec negro, long past the prime of life, advanced, hat in hand, to take his horse as the young man alighted; but there was no such ___ alacrity of movement, none of the broad smiles and display of ivory, none of the humble yet hearty welcome such as the old family servants ___ knew so well how to show a thoroughly welcome +‘ guest. Uncle Peter could not help being polite, after a frosty way, but he could not play the it. i meconxie and pretend to rejoice at the coming of one whom he considered among the ‘‘ poor poor specimen about that can- e MS Pa a = " : . white trash,” and a particular] . atthat. Uncle Peter had head ing affair. ___ * Your mistress at home, of course?” half-asked Cramp, glancing toward the open window where ihe caught a brief glimpse of feminine drapery. _ “Look after the brute carefully, will you? I’ve . ‘ * =i). - « “ii = . + + oa ___ vidden him hard and fast. And maybe it would be as well for you—” ; tt. ‘i “Yes, marse, ‘deed I dess will,” muttered Un- ae more closely concerning what Cramp had let “ate drop. In the end he was convinced that Mur- phy was speaking the plain truth: that Rufus _ Rites bo Ein had cignoty announced the sudden It was ‘ Hustle out | ) his thoroughly-studied plans. : Deadly Aim, the Duke of De cle Peter, moving rapidly away without waitin for the end of the sentence or to answer any oO the questions. “ Ketch me!” he added with a lofty sniff. ‘‘Rid hard, huh? Done buckled hisself fas’ in de saddle, den, fear he bre’k he triflin’, no’count neck! De mist’ess—umph? De ole mist’ess he need, I reck’n; an’ dat’s des what he gwine fo’ ketch, suah!” ncle Peter was a bit of a prophet in his way, for when Rufus Cramp was ushered into the oF eg wate he found himself frigidly receiv- ed by Mistress Honor Magill, instead of her fair young charge, the real mistress of Fairview. There had never been any love lost between these two, even before that disgraceful affair fill- ed the papers and furnished a nine-days’ topic for the gossips. Since then, Mistress Magill took even less trouble than ever to vail her cordial dislike. While uttering the usual compliments, Rufus glanced quickly around the room, his brows con- tracting a little as he saw that Aunt Honor alone remained to receive him. Yet he was al- most positive that the figure of which he had caught a glimpse when dismounting, was that of Portia Wellspring. ‘*Miss Portia? health?’ Aunt Honor remained standing, plainly re- solved to render this unwelcome guest as un- comfortable as possible, gave a stiff fittle bow at this nervous venture, | She isat home? I can see her? Will you kindly request her to grant me a few moments?” Man of the world though he prided himself on being, Rufus Cramp always found himself pecs liarly uncomfortable in the presence of this frigid, uncompromising guardian angel. Even when he was a welcome guest at the villa, before that luckless affair in town, that chilly sensation always crept over him when he felt those keen grayeyesuponhim. — / Even now, when ween that he held all the trumps in the bold game he had decided to play, Rufus felt strangely embarrassed and hardly knew what he stammered out at first. ‘* Miss Wellspring is not prepared to receive company,” stiffly uttered the guardian angel, her thin hands folded primly befcre her, her She is in her usual good cowld in St. Louey, he was to take her, sor.. An’ | gray eyes gazing straight over the head of the young man, her voice cold and measured, ‘‘ Miss Wellspring requests me to convey her regrets that circumstances render it impossible for her to receive any one this evening.” Rufus flushed hotly, for he could not mistake this reception. It was the first time he had ventured to call at Fairview since that affair with the Duke of Derringers, and if the ghost of a hope of winning Portia Wellspring ‘by fair means had survived, it now died the death. At the same time, this lofty scorn served him a good turn. It banished all embarrassment, cleared his brain, and left him free to carry out If he failed now, it would not be from softness of heart, ‘* Then she has—who could have been so indis- creet, so cruel!” he ejaculated, his face paling and his brows contracting. ‘‘ Who sent the message?” Aunt Honor drew her tall form up still more rigidly. ‘** 1 do not comprehend by what right—” “That of the messenger commissioned by her dear father to convey his last wishes, selon ” coldly roo Sep Cramp. , Mistress Magill for once was thoroughly star- tled, and showed as much in both face and voice as she faltered: * Her father? His last—what do you mean, sir Rufus Cramp gazed keenly into her face, always pale, but now blanched white as chalk, and in the next few moments he drank deep of revenge for the past. Speechless she gazed at him, her fingers working’ nervously, plainly longing to shake the whole truth out of him in a ump. It was little short of torture for her, and the rascal hugely enjoyed it, under his mask of grave concern. ’ ‘‘He was so opposed to sending a dispatch, lest the abrupt shock prove too severe for his child. He bade me first break the news to you, knowing that you were tougher and—” ‘“What do you mean, sir?’ sharply gasped Aunt Honor, even in her agitation taking offense at ye term. ‘‘ What news? What has hap- ned?” ‘* Is it possible that you are still in ignorance, then? That Miss Wellspring does not yet know—” ** What ?” | Sharp, cold, unmistakable came the word, and Rufus knew that to delay longer might prove disastrous to himself and hopes. ‘* That her father has been taken suddenly seriously ill at St. Louis,” he uttered in a guarded tone. A quick, sharp spasm contorted Aunt Honor’s face, and one trembling hand flew up to her brow, reigy ry it so tightly that when, a mo- ment later, it fell to her side, the impress of her long fingers were distinctly visible in red. Brief as the m was, it cast a flood of light over the brain of the young man. ‘‘The old rack-o’-bones is in love with the father!” flashed through his mind, and just rringers. the ghost of a smile marked the corners of bis mouth for a single instant. . To conceal this, he turned abruptly away and dropped into a chair. When his eyes lifted once more, Aunt Honor was seated op site him, her lace-mittened hands clasped in her lap, her face cold and composed, her attitude prim as ever, all emotion banished. ‘*This illness must have been ve sir,” she said. “‘When was Mr. first taken down?” Rufus mentioned the date. Aunt Honor con- tracted her brows. ‘Two days after the date of his last letter. It may be true!” ‘* True?’ echoed Cramp, in unfeigned aston- ishment, ‘‘ Would I take the trouble to bring word if it was not true?” ‘** I did not say so, sir,” was the cold retort. “‘IT was only surprised that Mr. Wellspring, always the soul of business, sent a young man instead of his lawyer. Or, sending, he omitted — you with a message other than ver- Rufus Cramp smiled outright at the labored speech, at the same time drawing a note-book from an inner pocket and extracting therefrom a folded slip of paper which he extended to the suspicious lady. ‘““As you say, I am young and but a poor man of business where my sympathy is so powerfully excited. I really forgot this paper.” Though Aunt Honor’s face was cold and hard as ever, her thin fingers visibly trembled as she unfolded the yee and glanced over the brief words written therein. The name of Romulus Wellspring was attached to the lines weak and tremulous in formation, but sti clearly his handwriting. ‘*My Dartine:—Come to me at once, if you would see me alive! lam very ill, but I will hold out until you can come. Trust the bearer, Rufus Cramp, and start at once. WELLSPRING.”’ Aunt Honor read these words, folded the note and faced Cramp, her voice as even as of old. ‘*T thank you for pay 9 this, and I beg your forgiveness for my lack of politeness a few moments since.” ‘If notentirely imaginary, my dear madam, believe me when I say that it passed wholly unnoticed,” bowed Rufus, “I only regret the sad canse that led to my hurried call.” ‘*Tell me about it, please. I must know all, 7 a3) to break the terrible tidings to my poor child. She paused abruptly, giving signs of breaking down as she spoke of Portia. Briefly, clearly, trutbfully.as far as concerned Romulus Wellspring himself, Rufus Cramp told his story up to the hour when he steamed away from St. Louis cn the Mississippi Belle. ‘* He was still living at that hour, though the physicians had given By hopes of his recov- ery. Father promised send me a dispatch that would reach me en route, if the worst came, I heard nothing from him, nor was there any message awaiting me in Orleans, eee [ hope Mr. Wellspring is still alive.” ‘** You will kindly wait here, while I break the sad news to Miss Wellspring?’ asked Aunt Honor, rising from her seat. ‘It is a sad duty. It will nearly kill the poor child! But there is hope—there must be a little hope remaining!”* She turned quickly away, her voice breaking, tears in her gray eyes that told of more nants agony than the wildest sobs and ravings from sudden, ellspring ereny a = And yet, as she left the room, Rufus oo laughed malignantly in his white handkerchief. If not utterly heartless, it was a Se? callous organ that served him as such. early an hour passed, but he was not im- patient. There was ample time for all pur- s. He did not care to start from Fairview at tooearly an hour. The boat did not leave until nearly noon on the next day, according to the schedule time. If necessary, the drive could be made after daydawn on the morrow; but the work he had in hand could best be performed under the dim hght of the stars alone! At the end of that period, Aunt Honor return- ed to the room, supporting Portia on her strong arm. Rufus Cramp rose precipitately, for a moment flushing hotly as remembered that luckless afternoon in the city, but Portia put out a trembling hand over which he bowed low. “T thank you, Mr. Cramp, for—” — Sobs choked her voice, anJ she buried her face in the stiff front of her guardian, whose arm pressed her tightly to her breast. ‘There is hope—there is time enough, I think,” muttered the villain, huskily. ‘Only for that faint hope, this terrible blow would crush me utterly!” she cried, rallying, facing the plotter and gazing through her tears at his face, as though she would read the whole truth there. ‘‘You are not deceiving me? There is a hope, however small, that I may yet see my darling father alive? You are keeping nothing back?” Rufus Cramp knew that far keener eyes than Portia’s were upon him, and right well did he school his features as he replied: ‘I have told the very worst, Miss Portia. Had there been more time to spare, I might Ecomilebo 2 p »‘ we. F 1 ad S SSO er a ° a i