Sharing Her Crime. May Agnes Fleming

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СКАЧАТЬ seem like a train of ghastly specters flitting by in the darkness. The elm trees in front of the house trailed their long arms against the window with a sound inexpressibly dreary; and the driving hail beat clamorously, as if for admittance.

      On either side of the fire-place stood two large easy-chairs, cushioned with deep crimson velvet. In these, facing each other, sat two persons—a man and a woman—the only occupants of the room.

      The woman was tall, straight, and stiff, and seemingly about fifty years of age. Her dress was a rustling black satin, with a small crape handkerchief fastened on her bosom with a magnificent diamond pin. Her hands, still small and white, were flashing with jewels as they lay quietly folded in her lap. A widow's cap rested on her head, which was alternately streaked with gray and jet. But her face—so stern, so rigid, no one could look upon it without a feeling of fear. The lips—so thin that she seemed to have no lips at all—were compressed with a look of unswerving determination. Her forehead was low and retreating, with thick black eyebrows meeting across the long, sharp nose, with a look at once haughty and sinister. And from under those midnight brows glittered and gleamed a pair of eyes so small, so sharp and keen—with such a look of cold, searching, steely brightness—that the boldest gaze might well quail before them. On that grim, hard face no trace of womanly feeling seemed ever to have lingered—all was stern, harsh, and freezingly cold. She sat rigidly erect in her chair, with her needle-like eyes riveted immovably on the face of her companion, who shifted with evident uneasiness beneath her uncompromising stare.

      He was a man of forty, or thereabouts, so small of stature that, standing side by side, he could scarcely have reached the woman's shoulder. But, notwithstanding his diminutive size, his limbs were disproportionately large for his body, giving him the appearance of being all legs and arms. His little, round bullet-head was set on a prodigiously thick, bull-like neck; and his hair, short, and bristling up over his head, gave him very much the look of the sun, as pictured in the almanacs.

      This prepossessing gentleman was arrayed in an immaculate suit of black, with a spotless white dickey, bristling with starch and dignity, and a most excruciating cravat. Half a dozen rings garnished his claw-like hands, and a prodigious quantity of watch-chain dangled from his vest. The worthy twain were engaged in deep and earnest conversation.

      "Well, doctor," said the lady, in a cold, measured tone, that was evidently habitual, "no doubt you are wondering why I sent for you in such haste to-night."

      "I never wonder, madam," said the doctor, in a pompous tone—which, considering his size, was quite imposing. "No doubt you have some excellent reason for sending for me, which, if necessary for me to know, you will explain."

      "You are right, doctor," said the lady, with a grim sort of smile. "I have an excellent reason for sending for you. You are fond of money, I know."

      "Why, madam, although it is the root of all evil——"

      "Tush, man! There is no need for Satan to quote Scripture just now," she interrupted with a sneer. "Say, doctor, what would you do to earn five hundred dollars to-night?"

      "Five hundred dollars?" said the doctor, his small eyes sparkling, while a gleam of satisfaction lighted up his withered face.

      "Yes," said the lady, "and if well done, I may double the sum. What would you do for such a price?"

      "Rather ask me what I would not do."

      "Well, the job is an easy one. 'Tis but to——"

      She paused, and fixed her eyes on his face with such a wild sort of gleam that, involuntarily, he quailed before her.

      "Pray go on, madam. I'm all attention," he said, almost fearing to break the dismal silence. "'Tis but to—what?"

      "Make away with—a woman and child!"

      "Murder them?" said the doctor, involuntarily recoiling.

      "Do not use that word!" she said, sharply. "Coward! do you really blanch and draw back! Methought one of your profession would not hesitate to send a patient to heaven."

      "But, madam," said the startled doctor, "you know the penalty which the law awards for murder."

      "Oh, I perceive," said the woman, scornfully, "it is not the crime you are thinking of, but your own precious neck. Fear not, my good friend; there is no danger of its ever being discovered."

      "But, my dear madam," said the doctor, glancing uneasily at the stern, bitter face before him, "I have not the nerve, the strength, nor the——"

      "Courage!" she broke in, passionately. "Oh, craven—weak, chicken-hearted, miserable craven! Go, then—leave me, and I will do it myself. You dare not betray me—you could not without bringing your neck to the halter—so I fear you not. Oh, coward! coward! why did not heaven make me a man?"

      In her fierce outburst of passion she arose to her feet, and her tall figure loomed up like some unnaturally large, dark shadow. The man quailed in fear before her.

      "Go!" she said, fiercely, pointing to the door, "You have refused to share my crime. Go! poor cowardly poltroon! but remember, Madge Oranmore never forgives nor forgets!"

      "But, my dear Mrs. Oranmore, just listen to me one moment," said the doctor, alarmed by this threat. "I have not refused, I only objected. If you will have the goodness to explain—to tell me what I must do, I will—see about it."

      "See about it!" hastily interrupted the lady. "You can do it—it is in your power; and yes, or no, must be your answer, immediately."

      "But——"

      "No buts, sir. I will not have them. If you answer yes, one thousand dollars and my future patronage shall be yours. If you say no, yonder is the door; and once you have crossed the threshold, beware! Now, Doctor Wiseman, I await your reply."

      She seated herself again in her chair; and, folding her hands in her lap, fixed her hawk-like eyes on his face, with her keen, searching gaze. His eyes were bent in troubled thought on the floor. Not that the crime appalled him; but if detected—that was the rub. Doctor Wiseman was, as his name implies, a man of sense, with an exceedingly accommodating conscience, that would stretch ad libitum, and never troubled him with any such nonsense as remorse. But if it were discovered! With rather unpleasant vividness, the vision of a hangman and halter arose before him, and he involuntarily loosened his cravat. Still, one thousand dollars were tempting. Doctor Nicholas Wiseman had never been so perplexed in his life.

      "Well, doctor, well," impatiently broke in the lady, "have you decided—yes or no?"

      "Yes," said the doctor, driven to desperation by her sneering tone.

      "'Tis well," she replied, with a mocking smile, "I knew you were too sensible a man to refuse. After all, 'tis but a moment's work, and all is over."

      "Will you be good enough to give me the explanation now, madam?" said the doctor, almost shuddering at the cold, unfeeling tone in which she spoke.

      "Certainly. You are aware, doctor, that when I married my late husband, Mr. Oranmore, he was a widower with one son, then three years old."

      "I am aware of that fact, madam."

      "Well, you also know that when this child, Alfred, was five years of age, СКАЧАТЬ