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Pulp Fiction, 1889 · page 4 of 32

Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 551 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 551 — page 4: Pulp Fiction, 1889

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° fa) we 4 es ’ — San y Garry Kean. tions of his superior. quickly: ‘Sir, your instinct tells you right. This man wrongs me, and he wrongs Miss Brackett foully. Do not believe him. Your daughter, herself, will deny the statement.” ‘‘ Observe how confidently he speaks of her!” cried White, growing angry. ‘‘ Judge, you have been blind; the things that all the rest of Jack’s Delight knew have been unseen and unsus- pected by you. This man and your daughter—” ‘“She does not know him; she never even spoke with him!” exclaimed Brackett, sharply. ** Ask your town’s-people, They will tell you that the two have walked together outside the village time and again. As for to-day— Men,” turning to his followers, ‘‘ did we, or did we not, arrest this play-actor wretch when Alice Brackett was in the carriage with him, leaving town?” ‘** We did!” a sober-faced deputy admitted. ‘* Brackett, you hear! I —_ no ill of poor, blind Alice Brackett; I would as soon malign an angel in Heaven; but I tell youthis wretch has bewitched her, He has stolen the affections of a blind girl, and was inducing her to elope when we stopped them!” The angry sheriff had bad his say, and he left two mer in a mood when their faces were a striking study. Brackett, who could face all danger, and any trouble except what menaced Alice, was dum- founded. He had known of Garry Kean; he had even had the young man before him in the court-room: but he bad never dreamed that Garry and Alice knew each other, Entertain- ing a very poor opinion of the man, he was dis- mayed at the news. rry was, himself, far from ealm, and he evidently bore the sheriff no good will; but after one menacing look at his accuser, be fixed a troubled regard upon the judge. It seemed that more weighty matters than indignation were in his mind, and that the effect of the revelation upon Brackett was what concerned him most, Before more could be said, two other persons wae rede” ne was a girl who looked to be scarcely more than a child, She was of slight figure, and her face was strikingly pretty, but it was loveliness which seemed out of place among the common creatures of the world. More than once the re- mark had been heard that she was more angel than human. Her slender form; her delicate, mild, refined and highly-intellectual face; her quiet and gentle manner—all this was very much out of place in the rough mining-town. Such was Alice Brackett, the judge’s blind daughter. She made a striking picture as she apeene™ ed. She was dressed in blue, a color which ex- actly suited her complexion and light-brown hair, and as excitement had flushed her cheeks, she had never looked prettier. By her side walked another woman. Her name was Electa Parsons; she was emploved at the Brackett house, and was known as a sort of watch-dog who was ereparen to do and die, if need be, for Alice. Electa was not hand- some. She had her fortieth year, and tee flight of time had madeits mark. She was tail, bony, angular and masculine, She looked severe, but was blessed with a good dispo:ition. She aspired to be considered a “‘ practical” wo- man, but was far from it; she cultivated a mas- culjine way of speaking, but always failed to be as harsh as she desired. These two persons came to a halt near the door. Upto that time Alice had moved very freely, but uncertainty now became apparent; the lack of sight had rarely been more of a misfortune. ‘* Miss Alice,” announced Electa, in her most masculine voice, ‘‘ there is men here. There is ang father, Judge Abram Brackett; there is r. Garry Kean; there is Sheriff Ambrose White; there is other men, hack out 0’ hearin’, There is great turnin’s out, an’ a hullabaloo which don’t seem called for!” And the speaker looked severely at the sheriff, * Father!” Alice uttered the single word faintly, nervous- ly. Abram Brackett aroused, ** Alice, come to me!” he gently directed. The blind girl obeyed, and he clasped his arm around her. She trembled, and was manifestly excited, but, on the whole, was calmer than was to be expected. ‘“My daughter,” said the Iron Judge, with t tenderness in his voice then, ‘‘ you have come just in time to deny a base statement. It has been said that you are acquainted with the actor, Garry Kean, but I know it to be untrue. Speak, my child, and deny it!” “Who has said it?” “‘ Sheriff White.” ‘‘Is he her keeper?” stridently demanded Electa Parsons. ‘‘ Who made him censor of her acts? What business is it o’ his’n?” “Tt is none of my business,” White quickly returned, ‘‘ and I bave no fault to find; no com- laint to make, I merely stated that Miss rackett and the man have often walked to- gether—” ‘Ts that a crime?” But Garry Kean spoke | The question came from the blind girl. Her | hesitation suddenly vanished; she drew her slight form erect; she confronted the sheriff with indignation; and it was plain that she had inherited a measure of her father’s firmness, “IT never said it was,” White meekly re- sponded. ‘*Since you are so interested in my acts,” pur- sued the girl, severely, ‘‘ I will admit that I have walked with Mr. Hubert’ Lawrence. What of it? Have I no right to acquaintances? Is there a law at Jack’s Delight which makes the sheriff say who shall walk, and who shall stay con- stantly in-doors?” ‘* Don’t! don’t!” groaned White. ‘*‘The Lord knows [ don’t set up as your critic. Garry Kean—Lawrence, I mean—just say for me that 1 haven’t assumed to make that a part of my business!” Garry Kean’s lip curled soorecnny ** While you are my accuser I will not be your defender,” he curtly replied. The troubled expression on Brackett’s face had given place to one of utter severity. To his profound surprise bis daughter had admitted a rt of the story told bythe sheriff. It had n a severe blow to him, for he had felt sure she would deny all, and could do so truthfully. That she was acquainted with such a man as Garry Kean—had even walked with him—dum- founded the Iron Judge. He felt like sending Kean to prison for life, and, as he could not do that, determined upon the course nearest to it. ‘* No more need be said now,” he coldly inter- rupted. ‘“‘ White, I infer that you know your business. If the prisoner is a horse-thief, take him to jail at once.” ‘* Father!” cried Alice, ‘‘I protest, Mr. Law- rence is not guilty. It will be a cruel act if you let him go to jail!” ‘* Peace, my child, peace!” huskily directed the judge. ‘‘ He will have a fair trial. Let the law take its course. This scene is painful to me. We will go inside—I wish to talk with you. No injustice shall be done.” ‘* T am the one most concerned here—listen to me, father! I am ready to talk with you, but I protest against Mr. Lawrence going to jail until you have heard us both.”: ‘* But, my daughter, the public exposure—” ** We will all go in!” ‘*T am reluctant to have that man cross the threshold.” Brackett lowered bis voice as he spoke, but the words reached Kean’s ears. He flushed slightly, but answered without a trace of bitter- ness: ess: **Rest easy, sir; I will not pollute your resi- dence!” **'We will all go in,” hurriedly announced the judge. He looked almost despairingly at the curious crowd. Under ordinary circumstances, with the prisoner before him, he would have leveled one finger, pointed toward the pel, and terse] ordered, *‘ Take him away!” nder the exis ing circumstances, he could not do that. Alice was concerned in the case, and the Iron Judge was almost ready to sink with shame. To him, it was something terrible that his daughter was mixed up with such a fellow as Garry Kean; and the sight of the assembled citizens staring at them, reduced the case to the lowest depth of ee ors ilently he stood aside; silently he pointed; and Alice, Electa, White and the prisoner en- tered, The judge followed, and he went with the determination to punish and crush the ac- cused man, CHAPTER IV. BLIND ALICE SPEAKS, A MONTH prior to the scenes just described a wanderin eatrical company had stopped at Jack’s Delight. They had twoplays with which they intended to thrill the people for the space of one week. The first was a farce-comedy of some merit; the other was a drama of the mines which had more noise than merit. For three nights the comedy held the boards and was fairly successful, but the drama of the mines did not please the critics. Said critics were not liter writers; they were miners, They disapproved; they said so; they killed the drama summarily, ln this dilemma it was proposed to revive the comedy, but another plan prevailed. Among the miners was one known as English John. This man had been in America less than half bis total years of life, and before that had aueers lived in London, . When in the latter place he had been an inveterate theater-goer, and tragic acting had been his hobby. | There had been real-life tragedies at Jack’s Delight, but none upon the stage; and when he heard of the hitch in the programme, he came solidly to the front. He talked to his companions, and the result was a big petition that the com- pooy would give them Shakespeare’s “ Julius eesar, The request was granted; the play was pre- sented The hit of the evening was made by a young actor who took the part of Mare Antony. The stirring lines were well delivered, and the miners found something manly enough for their taste, _ while Hubert Lawrence la English John, in particular, was enthusiastic’ and he hammered the floor with his heavy boots until he contracted a lameness which kept him company for a week. Hubert Lawrence was the name of the actor who had so pleased the veteran, and the former would have gone away from Jacks Delight a strong favorite had it not been for an unfor- tunate occurrence which followed the entertain- ment, That night several men slept in jail, in an improvised hospital with a knife-wound in his side, xplanations of the affair differed, and con- flicting stories were in circulation. The theatrical company affirmed that, after the play was over, one of the miners approached a minor actress with whom he had no acquaint- ance, asked her to be his wife and, being refused, tried to take her away by force; that Hubert Lawrence knocked him down; and that an affray followed in which a dozen men took part, sev- eral ofwhom were slightly wounded, and Law- rence, quite severely, The miner, in defense, claimed that he had flirted with the actress through the week; that she had Jed him on deliberately; and that he had her promise to leave the company after that evening and remain at Jack’s Delight as his wife, The facts of the case were not learned, The theatrical company was anxious to get away; they saw the miner and a compromise was effect- ed; the miner left the town and traveled north; and the actors left and traveled south. Thus, the whole affair would soon have dropped into oblivion but for one thing. Hubert Lawrenve had not been able to travel, and be was left behind. Days of convalescence followed. If any guilt. attached to him there was no one to make a charge, and it was clear that none would be made. His only concern was his health, and as he had good care and a good constitution, he soon began to mend. Those who took care of him came to like him, and he was described as an honest, intelligent, good-natured young man. But there was another rumor abroad. Some one had started the theory that the actress had really flirted with the miner; that her object was to get money out of him; and that Law- rence was her allyin the plot. Rumor is a swift racer; the story spread; and, by the time the wounded actor was able to get about again, he found that he had a bad reputation and but few friends. He soon won over some of his enemies, One burly fellow made the charge directly and coarsely; Lawrence denied it and, findin that his accuser could give no proof, dernander an me y; it was refused, and then the still pale-fa actor went in and solidly whipped the big fellow of robust health, After that, no- body told him to his face that he aided to en- trap a man and tried to swindle him out of his money. From the start Euglish Jobn had been the wounded man’s friend. He could not turn cold- ly away from the sick-bed of a man who could play tragedy well; he became Lawrence’s nurse, and, later, his stanch defender and sincere friend. When with the miners, he sung Law- rence’s praises as a man and an actor, ae talked learnedly of more celebrated actors whom he had seen and heard of in England, and with whose merits he was perfectly at home, He talked so persistently about Macready, Garrick and Kean that it came to pass that a sobriquet was coined for the wounded man, and when he became able to move about, nobody spoke of himas Hubert Lawrence; the excel- leucies of the old English tragedians, Garrick and Kean, were brought to bear on the modern disciple of the stage, and us ‘‘Garry Kean” he was opines’ known, : With some this nickname became an affection- ate title, but his enemies remained in the ma- jority. Twice he had brought a citizen of the place to grief in personal encounter, and the rank and file hated him for it. Even they treated him respectfully; since victory “Sie after he rose from a sick-bed, and the humbling of the big bully, compelled all to admit that Kean was a man with backbone, and they let him alone. Such was the man whose name was now as- sociated with Alice Brackett’s, and deep was her father’s chagrin. He disliked and suspected the young man, He was prejudiced at the start by the fact that Lawrence was an actor: the trouble in regard to the actress was not a pleas- ant affair; and the fact that Garry had whipped a scandal-monger did not elevate himin the eyes of the Iron Judge, It was with a heavy heart that Brackett fol- lowed the party into the house, as described in the previous chapter, ! He closed the door and turned to Sheriff White, “Take your prisoner into the west room, [I wish to speak with my daughter alone,” The order was obeyed, and then the judge took Alice’s hand and led her to the east room, Electa looked wishful, but ber master imperi- ously motioned her away. He was soon alone with his daughter, with the door closed to all prying eyes, Geom Ghboo cS } i :