Sharing Her Crime: A Novel. May Agnes Fleming

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СКАЧАТЬ in her hand, her fair, bright face and large blue eyes raised with mingled shyness and sauciness to a horseman bending over her, as if speaking. His fiery steed seemed pawing with impatience; but his rider held him with a firm hand. He was a tall, slight youth, with raven black hair and eyes, and a dark, handsome face. There was a wild look about the dark horseman and darker steed, reminding one of the Black Horseman of the Hartz Mountains. Underneath was written, in a dashing masculine hand, "The first meeting." There was something strikingly, vividly life-like in the whole scene; even the characters – the slender girl, with her pretty, piquant face, and the handsome, graceful rider – were more like living beings than creations of fancy.

      And – yes, standing by the fire, his arm resting on the mantel, his eyes fixed on the hearth, stood the original of the picture. The same tall, superb form; the same clear olive complexion; the same curling locks of jet, and black eyes of fire; the same firm, proud mouth, shaded by a thick black mustache – there he stood, his eyes riveted on the glowing coals, his brow knit as though in deep and painful thought. Now and then the muscles of his face would twitch, and his white hands involuntarily clench at some passing thought.

      At intervals the noise of doors shutting and opening would reach his ear, and he would start as though he had received a galvanic shock, and listen for a moment intently. Nothing could be heard but the crackling of the fire at such times, and again he would relapse into gloomy musing.

      "What a fool I have been!" he exclaimed, at length between his clenched teeth, as he shook back with fierce impatience his glossy hair, "to burden myself with this girl! Dolt, idiot that I was, to allow myself to be bewitched by her blue eyes and yellow hair! What demon could have possessed me to make her my wife? My wife! Just fancy me presenting that little blushing, shrinking Galway girl as my wife to my lady mother, or to that princess of coquettes, Lizzie Erliston! I wish to heaven I had blown my brains out instead of putting my head into such a confounded noose – making myself the laughing-stock of all my gallant friends and lady acquaintances! No, by heaven! they shall never laugh at Barry Oranmore. Eveleen shall be sent back to her friends. They will be glad enough to get her on any terms; and she will soon forget me, and be happy tending her sheep once more. And yet – and yet – poor Eveleen!" he said, suddenly, pausing before the picture, while his dark eyes filled with a softer light, and his voice assumed a gentler tone; "she loves me so well yet – far more than I do her. I hardly like the thought of sending her away; but it cannot be helped. My mother's purse is running low, I fear; Erliston's coffers must replenish it. Yes, there is no help for it; Eveleen must go, and I must marry little Lizzie. Poor child; she left home, and friends, and all for me; and it does seem a villainous act in me to desert her for another. But go she must; there is no alternative."

      He was walking up and down in his intense excitement – sometimes pausing suddenly for a few moments, and then walking on faster than before. Thus half an hour passed, during which he seemed to have formed some determination; for his mouth grew stern, and his clear eyes cold and calm, as he once more leaned against the mantel, and fell into thought.

      Presently the door opened and a woman entered. She was a stout, corpulent person, with coarse, bloated face, and small, bleared eyes. As she entered, she cast an affectionate glance toward the brandy bottle on the table – a glance which said plainly she would have no objection to trying its quality. She was arrayed for the street, with a large cloak enveloping her ample person, and a warm quilted hood tied over her substantial double chin.

      "Well, sir, I'll be movin', I reckon," said the woman, adjusting her cloak. "The young lady's doing very nicely, and the baby's sleeping like an angel. So they'll get along very well to-night without me."

      The young man started at the sound of her voice, and, looking up, said carelessly:

      "Oh, it's you, is it? Are you for leaving?"

      "Yes, sir; it's time I was home and to bed. I ain't used to bein' up late nights now – don't agree with my constitution; it's sorter delicate. Shouldn't wonder if I was fallin' into a decline."

      The quizzical dark eyes of the young man surveyed the rotund person before him, and in spite of himself he burst out laughing.

      "Well, now, if you was in a decline yourself, you'd laugh t'other side of your mouth, I reckon," said the offended matron. "S'pose you think it's very funny laughing at a poor, lone 'oman, without chick nor child. But I can tell you – "

      "Ten thousand pardons, madam, for my offense," he interrupted, courteously, though there was still a wicked twinkle in his eye. "Pray sit down for a moment; I have something to say to you."

      "Well, now, it don't seem exactly right to sit here with you at this hour of the night. Howsomever, I will, to oblige you," and the worthy dame placed her ample frame in a cushioned elbow-chair.

      "Perhaps this argument may aid in overcoming your scruples," said the young man, filling her a glass of wine, and throwing himself on a lounge; "and now to business. You are a widow?"

      "Yes, sir. My blessed husband died a martyr to his country – died in the discharge of his duty. He was a custom-house officer, and felt it his duty always to examine liquors before destroying them. Well, one day he took too much, caught the devil-rum tremendous, and left me a disconsolate widder. The coroner of the jury set onto him, and – "

      "There, there! never mind particulars. You have no children?"

      "No," said the old woman stiffly, rather offended by his unceremonious interruption.

      "If you were well paid, you would have no objection to taking one and bringing it up as your own?" said the young man, speaking quietly, though there was a look of restless anxiety in his fine eyes.

      "Well, no; I'd have no objection, if – " and here she slapped her pocket expressively, by way of finishing the sentence.

      "Money shall be no object; but remember, the world must think it is your own —I am never to be troubled about it more."

      "All right – I understand," said the nurse, nodding her head sagely. "S'pose it's the little one in there?"

      "It is. Can you take it away now?"

      "To-night?"

      "Yes."

      "But laws! ain't it too cold and stormy. Better wait till to-morrow."

      "No," was the quick and peremptory answer. "To-night, now, within this very hour, it must be removed; and I am never to hear of it more."

      "And the poor young lady? Seems sorter hard, now don't it? she'll take on wonderfully, I'm feared."

      A spasm of pain passed over his handsome face, and for a moment he was silent. Then, looking up, he said, with brief sternness:

      "It cannot be helped. You must go without disturbing her, and I will break the news to her myself. Here is my purse for the present. What is your address?"

      The woman gave it.

      "Very well, you shall hear from me regularly; but should we ever meet again, in the street or elsewhere, you are not to know me, and you must forget all that has transpired to-night."

      "Hum!" said the fat widow, doubtfully.

      "And now you had better depart. The storm has almost ceased, and the night is passing away. Is Ev – is my wife awake?"

      "No; I left her sleeping."

      "So much the better. You can take it with you without disturbing her. Go."

      The buxom widow arose СКАЧАТЬ