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Title: A crown of shame, volume 3 (of 3)

Author: Florence Marryat

Release date: February 2, 2025 [eBook #75276]

Language: English

Original publication: London: F. V. White & Co, 1888

Credits: Emmanuel Ackerman, David E. Brown, Chris Corrigan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CROWN OF SHAME, VOLUME 3 (OF 3) ***





A CROWN OF SHAME.

VOL. III.




  A CROWN OF SHAME.

  _A NOVEL._

  BY
  FLORENCE MARRYAT,

  AUTHOR OF
  ‘LOVE’S CONFLICT,’ ‘MY SISTER THE ACTRESS,’
  ETC. ETC.

  _IN THREE VOLUMES._

  VOL. III.

  LONDON:
  F. V. WHITE & CO.,
  31 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C.
  1888.

  [_All rights reserved._]




  EDINBURGH
  COLSTON AND COMPANY
  PRINTERS




[Illustration]




_CONTENTS._


                   PAGE

  CHAPTER I.          1

  CHAPTER II.        19

  CHAPTER III.       57

  CHAPTER IV.        94

  CHAPTER V.        129

  CHAPTER VI.       165

  CHAPTER VII.      201




A CROWN OF SHAME.




POPULAR NEW NOVELS.


_Now ready, in One Vol., the Seventh Edition of_

  =ARMY SOCIETY; or, Life in a Garrison Town.= By JOHN STRANGE WINTER.
    Author of ‘Bootles’ Baby.’ Cloth gilt, 6s.; also picture boards, 2s.


_Also now ready, in cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. each._

  =GARRISON GOSSIP, Gathered in Blankhampton.= By JOHN STRANGE WINTER.
    Also picture boards, 2s.

  =IN THE SHIRES.= By Sir RANDAL H. ROBERTS, Bart.

  =THE OUTSIDER.= By HAWLEY SMART.

  =THE GIRL IN THE BROWN HABIT.= By Mrs EDWARD KENNARD.

  =STRAIGHT AS A DIE.= By the same Author.

  =BY WOMAN’S WIT.= By Mrs ALEXANDER. Author of ‘The Wooing O’t.’

  =KILLED IN THE OPEN.= By Mrs EDWARD KENNARD.

  =IN A GRASS COUNTRY.= By Mrs H. LOVETT-CAMERON.

  =A DEVOUT LOVER.= By the same Author.

  =TWILIGHT TALES.= By Mrs EDWARD KENNARD. _Illustrated._

  =SHE CAME BETWEEN.= By Mrs ALEXANDER FRASER.

  =THE CRUSADE OF ‘THE EXCELSIOR.’= By BRET HARTE.

  =A REAL GOOD THING.= By Mrs EDWARD KENNARD.

  =CURB AND SNAFFLE.= By Sir RANDAL H. ROBERTS, Bart.

  =DREAM FACES.= By the Hon. Mrs FETHERSTONHAUGH.

  =A SIEGE BABY.= By JOHN STRANGE WINTER.

  =MONA’S CHOICE.= By Mrs ALEXANDER. Author of ‘The Wooing O’t.’


  F. V. WHITE & Co., 31 Southampton Street, Strand,
  London, W.C.




[Illustration]




A CROWN OF SHAME.




CHAPTER I.


Rosa, the yellow girl, was sauntering up and down the avenue of tulip
trees which formed an approach of a quarter of a mile to the plantation
of Beauregard, in a very discontented and sullen humour. She was
holding Maraquita’s baby in her arms, and she was dressed in her very
best. Her cotton gown was of the deepest rose colour; on her feet
she wore white stockings and prunella shoes with sandals; her long
black curls--in which she prided herself there was no trace of negro
crispness--were surmounted by a handkerchief of bright orange silk,
which Miss Lizzie had given her as a reward for her kindness to her
little charge. But what was the good of it all? thought Rosa; what was
the use of wearing her gilt earrings and her string of coral beads,
when there was no one to see them--not even a coolie boy left on the
plantation? For this was a general holiday. Not a hand was to work,
either in the coffee or sugar fields, for it was Miss Maraquita’s
wedding-day, and all the coloured people were off to the Fort Church to
witness the ceremony. All, that is to say, except poor Rosa. But Miss
Lizzie had refused to give her leave. She had promised the yellow girl
that she would take charge of the baby in the afternoon, and let her
join the big dinner that was to be given to all the hands at sunset,
and the dance that would follow it, but she would not consent to let
her go to the church. Lizzie had her own reasons for the denial--Rosa
might have been sure that she would never have been unjust or unkind to
any one--but she did not choose to tell them to her servant.

She thought it would scarcely be delicate to let Rosa, who had the care
of the poor outcast baby, and was like a second mother to it, form one
of the gaping crowd to see Maraquita married to the Governor. It was
something too terrible to Lizzie to think that her adopted sister could
do this thing, and she decided that herself and all who had any part
to bear in her sinful secret were much better out of the way. So she
had condemned Rosa to remain in the plantation with the infant, who
was growing quite a big child, and the yellow girl was proportionately
discontented.

There was a certain young Creole called Juan who had been paying her
great attention lately, and whom she entertained serious thoughts of
marrying. The silk handkerchief, the earrings, and the coral beads had
all been donned for Juan’s benefit, and now he was off to the Fort
with some other girl maybe--with Chloe, or Celeste, or Marie--and she
had to walk up and down this stupid avenue with the baby in her arms.
Rosa could have shaken the baby for keeping her from the much-coveted
spectacle.

As she was thinking over her disappointment, Judy--Mammy Lila’s
granddaughter--walked from behind a tall bush, and confronted her.

‘Hillo, Rosa!’ she cried. ‘Is dat Missy Liz’s baby? My! how dat grown;
she’s pretty heavy now, I guess.’

Judy was an ugly, cunning-looking young negress, of perhaps
fifteen--tall and lanky and large-boned, with a propensity for lying
and thieving and everything that was wrong.

‘_Heavy?_’ echoed Rosa; ‘you may say dat. She breaks my arm pretty well
carrying her all day long. But ain’t you going to the wedding, Judy?
It’s most time to be off. Don’t I wish I’se going too.’

‘Why ain’t you going, Rosa, gal? Uncle Mose say dat will be de finest
sight ebber seen in San Diego. And you got your Sunday gown on too!
Why you not go?’

‘’Cause Missy Liz say _no_; and I nebber go back to her if I disobey!
But you’se going, Judy, sure?’

‘No, Rosa! I’se got bad head dis morning,’ replied Judy, with a cunning
look, and her lean hand to her woolly hair, ‘and I’se can’t stand long
walk. I’se better stay here till de dinner-bell sound.’

‘Dere now!’ cried Rosa, with vexation. ‘Ain’t dat a muddle? Why, I’d
gib my best earrings to be able to go. I shall nebber forgive myself
dat I not see Miss Quita’s wedding.’

‘You can see de carriages coming down de drive; and Miss Quita in her
white dress--all lace,’ said Judy.

‘Dat ain’t de ting! But what you low niggers know about grand folk’s
ways? I want to be one of de church company, and hear de wedding
ceremony,’ replied Rosa, mouthing the long word.

‘So you can, den, Rosa. Jes’ gib de chile to me, and I’ll hold it till
you come back. Don’t take no time to marry, you know; jest a few words,
and it’s all over; and I won’t leave dis place while you’re gone.’

‘Is dat a fac’, Judy?’ exclaimed the yellow girl, with a brightening
face. ‘Will you hold the baby whiles I gone? Den I’ll keep my word, and
you shall hab de earrings, for you’re the berry pusson as I wanted to
meet--dat’s so;’ and placing the infant in Judy’s arms, she disengaged
the gilt trinkets from her ears, and laid them in her hand. ‘Judy,
you’se a real good gal, and you won’t stir from dis avenue till I come
back; and if you sees Miss Lizzie a-coming, you’ll bolt in bushes like
rattlesnake? Is dat so?’

‘Dat _is_ so, Rosa. I’ll keep her safe, nebber fear. I likes nussing de
babies, and my head ain’t good for nuffin else dis morning.’

‘I’ll hurry back quick as I can directly dat’s over!’ cried Rosa, as
she darted down the tulip tree avenue, in order to reach the Fort
before the carriages from Beauregard.

As soon as she was out of sight, Judy gave one look around to make sure
she was unobserved, and then dived with the child into the thick bushes
that skirted the drive on either side. She had not gone far before she
was met by Henri de Courcelles. He was dressed much as usual, but he
was looking very pale and dissipated, and there was a dark look about
his eyes that seemed as though he had been drinking hard, or going
without his natural rest. As he encountered Judy, he accosted her
roughly.

‘So you’ve got the child?’

‘Oh, yes, Massa Courcelles, and wid berry little trouble. Rosa jes’
_mad_ to go to wedding. She jump wid joy when I tell her I’d hold de
baby, and gib me her best earrings into de bargain; but I promise I be
back here when she return from church, so massa won’t be long after
her, eh?’

‘You shall be back as soon as ever it is possible: I promise you so
much; but you must come with me to San Diego. You don’t suppose I’m
going to carry _that_?’

‘Massa please,’ replied the coolie, shrugging her shoulders; ‘all same
to me. I can tell Rosa anyting,--dat I’se too bad to walk, and took de
baby to my hut, eh?’

‘I’ve no doubt you are equal to inventing any number of lies to suit
your purpose; but now you must follow me.’

De Courcelles led the way as he spoke by many a devious path through
the thicket, until they reached the outer boundary of the plantation,
where he hustled Judy and the child into a close carriage which he had
in waiting, and ordered the driver to take them to the Fort.

Meanwhile, Maraquita, dressed in her bridal robes of lace and orange
blossoms, and with a costly veil covering her to the ground, stepped
into the carriage which was to convey her to church. The vehicle had
been re-painted for the auspicious occasion, and re-lined with a
delicate silver grey brocade. The horses were caparisoned in silver
harness, with large cockades of white ribbon at their ears, and the
coloured coachman and footman in brand new liveries wore large
bouquets of white flowers in their button-holes. Four or five other
vehicles followed that in which sat the bride between her adoring
parents, and contained relations of the family, and intimate friends
who were staying in the house. It was a trying ordeal for Mr and
Mrs Courtney, who were about to part with the one blossom of their
marriage-tree; but though the father was nervous and agitated, and the
mother could not prevent the tears rising to her eyes, the brilliant
position their daughter had attained for herself was the greatest
consideration in their minds, and outbalanced any pain they may have
felt at the impending separation. Quita herself felt overwhelmed at the
knowledge of her good fortune. She had so dreaded lest something might
occur to mar her prospects, that she was almost hysterical at the idea
that they were about to be consummated. She turned from one parent
to the other in a glow of expectation and triumph, which flushed her
usually pale cheeks, and lent a fire to her eye, that made her truly
beautiful. As the carriage approached the Fort, in which the English
Church was situated, they found the road lined with eager faces, both
white and coloured, and a shout of welcome and congratulation went
up as soon as they appeared. Sir Russell Johnstone was in the church
porch waiting to receive his bride, and it would have been difficult
to find a more lovely creature than stepped from the carriage and
stood before him, trembling (as it appeared) with modesty and maiden
shame. The church was crowded, every pew was filled with friends and
acquaintances carrying nosegays, the aisles were lined with darkies
grinning from ear to ear, the pillars and rails were wreathed with
flowers and ferns. Never was there a prettier wedding, nor a more
auspicious one. As Maraquita was led to the altar by her father and
mother, the organist commenced to play, and the choir, who had been
practising for the last month, sang a marriage hymn. Quita felt, for
the time being, as if she were about to wed the man of her choice, and
had no regrets to spare for a mistaken past. The flowers, the melody,
the congratulatory looks by which she was surrounded, appealed to her
senses, until she was ready to believe that she was worthy of them.
Henri de Courcelles had no place whatever in her thoughts that morning.
Out of sight, was truly out of mind with her shallow soul, and she
remembered nothing but that she was about to become Lady Johnstone,
and all the unmarried girls in San Diego were envying her good luck.
She went through the service as calmly as possible. Mrs Courtney
sobbed like a school-girl, her husband blew his nose and changed his
feet every minute, and Sir Russell was visibly agitated. Only the
beautiful young bride made her responses in an unfaltering voice,
and held up her face as soon as the ceremony was over, to receive
her bridegroom’s kiss, as quietly as if she had been married for ten
years. It was over then, and there was nothing more to do but to sign
her name in the register, and go forth to take her place in a world
which seemed strewn with roses, and in which no inconvenient memories
should rise up to trouble her. The organ pealed forth the wedding
march. Sir Russell extended his arm for her acceptance, and Maraquita
realised that at last she really was his _wife_, and no one could
deprive her of the position he had bestowed upon her. She beamed with
smiles of satisfaction as she walked down the aisle on her husband’s
arm, returning the bows on either side, and treading on the roses, and
lilies, and myrtle strewn by the children in her path. Sir Russell’s
carriage, with its four horses and outriders, and its stately guard of
honour, was waiting to receive her, and take her back to her father’s
house for breakfast, and her heart swelled with pride as she caught
sight of it, beyond the crowd that clustered round the church door and
steps, and threatened to impede her way. But she had hardly placed her
foot on the red carpet that had been laid down for her accommodation,
when her eye fell on a group that riveted her to the spot, and almost
made her breath stop,--a group that seemed to rise up as it were from
the very earth itself, like a Nemesis, to rob her of her joy. Maraquita
stared at it as if she were turning to stone, while her face grew
deadly pale, and her limbs tottered under her. Her first impulse had
been to scream, but the strong instinct of self-preservation inherent
in every nature prevented her, and the effort to restrain herself
resulted in her falling suddenly from Sir Russell’s support, and
sinking to the ground in a dead faint. A dozen people were round her in
a moment. Some declared it must be the heat--others, the excitement
and fatigue--only one person amongst them all, and that was her mother,
Mrs Courtney, discovered the real cause of her daughter’s emotion.
_She_ had come upon the scene in time to see the dark handsome face of
Henri de Courcelles glaring like that of an avenging angel above the
crowd, whilst in his arms he held up high on view his infant. She had
cowered herself beneath the sight--no wonder it had affected her poor
Maraquita. In a commanding voice she had desired the church peons to
disperse the crowd, and when the bride was sufficiently recovered to
be taken to her carriage, no one was left to molest her. One anxious
despairing look passed between her mother and herself, but a hurried
whisper from Mrs Courtney somewhat reassured her, and by the time they
reached Beauregard, Maraquita was to all appearances herself again. But
only to the view of strangers, for long after she had left San Diego,
and the Government steamer was conveying Sir Russell and Lady Johnstone
to a sister island to spend their honeymoon, she sat with her large
dark eyes staring out into the star-bespangled night, in which she saw
nothing but the picture of a man’s face, full of hate and frenzy and
revenge,--of a man who held a little infant in his arms. And as she
thought of it, Lady Johnstone felt the tears roll down her face (as
they should not have rolled down the face of a newly-wedded woman), in
memory of a past which she hated and loved, and longed-for and dreaded,
all at the same time.




[Illustration]




CHAPTER II.


Hugh Norris had not been slow to avail himself of Lizzie’s permission
to visit her. He had knocked about a good deal in the world, and he had
seen all sorts and conditions of women, but he had never met any one
to interest him, and hold his sympathies, like the Doctor’s daughter.
It was not only that she was firm and sweet in temper, and strong in
mind, and clever and energetic--there was a more binding tie between
them than that. _They thought together_; and if men and women would
realise that kindred tastes and ideas form the only lasting bond
between friends, there would be fewer unhappy marriages than there are.
There is a great deal of talk heard on occasions about the happiness
of surrendering one’s opinions in deference to those of the person one
loves, but that notion is only believed in by the men who wish to be
master, and ride roughshod over their household gods. To surrender is
to give up one’s mental and moral liberty, and there may be duty in
bondage, but there can be no pleasure. Marriage should be the cementing
of a friendship between the sexes, and it is the only safe light by
which to regard it. There should be plenty of _giving_ in it, but no
_giving up_! And Captain Norris felt that if Lizzie Fellows could learn
to regard him as he did her, there would be very few jars in their
domestic _ménage_. He had been detained in San Diego much longer than
he had anticipated. Just as he got his cargo on board, and was ready
to start, a serious damage had been discovered in the _Trevelyan_,
and he had been compelled to send her into dock for repairs. Although
the delay meant a considerable loss of money to him, Captain Norris
did not regret it. He did not feel easy, in common with many of the
residents, with regard to the safety of the island; and to leave Lizzie
in possible danger, surrounded by a horde of mutinous coolies, and
without the possibility of obtaining news of her for months together,
would have been a sore trial to him. He would have taken her with
him gladly as his wife, or as an ordinary passenger, but he knew her
character too well to propose it. Had she been affianced to him, and
danger threatened her benefactor and his family, she would have died
with them, sooner than desert them in the time of uncertainty. And
uncertainty seemed to prevail in San Diego. Grave mutterings were heard
on every side of averted rebellions and suppressed mutinies, and the
planters knew that it needed but the necessary boldness on the part
of one set of hands to rise, to set the whole negro population aflame
with the lust for rapine and murder. Sir Russell Johnstone was not a
favourite amongst them, for he disliked the coloured people, and had
passed some very harsh sentences on the prisoners brought up to him
for judgment, and his name was seldom mentioned without an execration
attached to it. The hands on Beauregard had not shown discontent
beyond the ordinary grumblings and small impertinences common amongst
the coolies; but Hugh Norris knew the character of the people well,
and he distrusted them. He remembered how in former mutinies, both in
the East and West Indies, the actual fight for the supremacy had been
preceded for a long time by half-suppressed murmurs and complaints,
like the muttering of the elements before a tempest, and that, when the
storm broke, it came like a clap of thunder, suddenly and unexpectedly,
and overwhelmed its victims before they were hardly aware of the danger
they incurred. So he was glad than otherwise to be detained in San
Diego, though what he heard and saw there did not tend to reassure him.
He was present at Maraquita’s wedding, being a friend both of Sir
Russell Johnstone and the Courtneys; but he declined the invitation
to the breakfast, both because he disliked such festivities, and that
Lizzie Fellows, he knew, would not be there. But on the evening of the
same day he strolled into her bungalow, and seated himself without
ceremony like an old friend.

‘So, Lizzie,’ he commenced, ‘you were not present at the grand wedding
this morning?’

‘No. I asked them to excuse me, Captain Norris. My dear father’s recent
death renders it very unfit that I should mix in any gaiety.’

‘But your adopted sister’s marriage, Lizzie! Surely that was an
occasion on which you might have relaxed your strict seclusion?’

He had marked the coolness which had separated Lizzie of late from
Mrs Courtney and her daughter, and he had his own suspicions on the
subject; but he had not presumed to put them into words.

‘They didn’t think so. They were quite satisfied to let me follow my
own wishes,’ replied the girl quietly.

‘And how is your nurse-child? Thriving?’

Lizzie’s eyes sparkled.

‘Beautifully, thank you. She is growing such a dear little creature,
and knows me as well as possible.’

‘Have you had her baptised?’

‘How strange you should ask me that question,’ remarked Lizzie
thoughtfully, looking up from her work. ‘It is the very thing I was
about to consult you on! How often we seem to have the same ideas at
the same moment! I think you must be a wizard, and read my thoughts!’

‘It is because we are so much in sympathy with each other, Lizzie. But
what about the mysterious baby? Have you decided on the name you will
call her?’

‘No; I have never troubled my head about it. Any name will do.’

‘Oh, poor little lady! let us give her a pretty one whilst we are about
it. Why not call her after yourself?’

Lizzie shrank from the idea.

‘Oh, no! She has nothing to do with me. Please suggest something else.’

‘Poor mite! she seems to have nothing to do with any one. She is a
little blot upon the universe. But she is God’s own child. Suppose we
call her after His mother.’

‘Mary! Yes, I like that idea. What is _your_ mother’s name, Captain
Norris?’

‘The same. I was thinking partly of her when I spoke.’

‘Then I shall like the name doubly for her sake. I am sure she must be
a good woman, to have borne such a son as you are.’

‘I am afraid that is not much recommendation for her, Lizzie,’ returned
Hugh Norris, laughing. ‘But she _is_ a good woman--the best woman I
have ever known--for all that. And how she would love _you_! How I wish
you knew her: you would get on so well together.’

‘How can you tell that?’

‘Because you have the same tastes. My mother is quite a doctor in her
way; and all the country people believe in her immensely. Only she is
a herbalist, and does not approve of strong drugs. Since my father
died, and her sons have gone out into the world, she has lived alone
in a cottage in the sweetest spot of Kent you have ever seen; and she
is beloved of the whole country-side. But I wish there was some one to
live with her, now she is getting old. She has never had a daughter, my
dear old mother! How she would love and cherish one!’

‘How many brothers have you?’ asked Lizzie, trying to run away from the
dangerous subject.

‘Two, George and Frederick. George is in the Indian Army, and has been
out in Bengal for the last five years; and Fred is in business in
London. He goes down to see mother every now and then; but they are
only flying visits, and she must feel very lonely at times.’

‘Yes, very! How often do _you_ see her?’

‘Every few months, as a rule; but my time in England is necessarily
short. If I had a wife--’ said Captain Norris, and there stopped.

‘Well,’ remarked Lizzie encouragingly, ‘what then?’

‘I was going to say that (with _her_ permission, of course) I shouldn’t
be entirely selfish: I should leave her behind me some voyages, that
she might keep my mother company. It wouldn’t be for long, perhaps, for
I hope to get work on shore some day--I shouldn’t like to spend all my
life roving about like this, without any settled home.’

‘But it must be glorious to sail about all over the world, and see so
many new countries!’ cried Lizzie, with kindling eyes.

‘It is, whilst a man is young and independent, and has no ties to pull
at his heart-strings. _You_ would enjoy it, Lizzie, I am sure. Your
free and energetic spirit would be quite in accord with the unfettered
elements, and you would glory in seeing them circumvented (for mastered
they can never be) by the ingenuity or prevision of men.’

‘Yes, I should like it, I am sure. It is the sort of life that would
carry one out of oneself, and make one almost forget how much falsehood
and wickedness and ingratitude hold their place amongst men. To be out
on the open sea from morning to night, and to know for certain that
no one who has injured or disappointed you can follow you there, and
that you are alone with God and your own thoughts--it must be a kind of
little heaven in itself, if--if--’

‘If _what_, Lizzie?’ demanded Hugh Norris eagerly.

‘If one went with the person one loved,’ she replied, with a slight
increase of colour.

‘Let us talk of the baby--of little Mary,’ he said impatiently. ‘When
shall we have her christened?’

‘Any day, if you will be her godfather, and share the responsibility of
her with me.’

‘Willingly. As she is to bear my mother’s name, I consider it incumbent
on me to do so. But, Lizzie, have you taken my advice about this child?
Have you appealed to her parents to lift the burden they have laid upon
you, by at least a partial confession of their error?’

‘I have,’ she answered, in a low voice.

‘And they refused?’

‘I only saw the mother, and she denied all knowledge of her child.
The--the--other parent I could not speak to.’

‘You know the names of both of them then.’

She bowed her head in silence.

‘Lizzie, I think I have guessed your secret, or at least part of it.
The father of this infant is Henri de Courcelles.’

‘What should make you say that, Captain Norris?’ she exclaimed, in a
tone of alarm.

‘The hesitation in your voice when you alluded to him; but I have had
my suspicions of it before now. And shall I tell you the name of the
mother who has left you to bear the burden of her shameful secret?’

‘No, no, Captain Norris,’ cried Lizzie, springing from her chair; ‘you
must not say it! I will not hear it! You are mistaken! It is not true!
Oh, my dear friend,’ she continued, laying her hand upon his arm,
‘think--_think_ what you are doing. The honour of a whole family is
involved in your discovery. Be silent. Keep the secret sacred, as I do,
for God’s sake.’

‘And what about the honour of the woman I love?’ he asked tenderly, as
he looked into her face; ‘am I not to think of that?’

‘If you love her,’ replied Lizzie, blushing, ‘you must know that her
honour is safe. But for the other--so young--so weak--’

‘So unprincipled--so false, you mean!’ said Hugh Norris indignantly.
‘Well, it will come home to her some day, see if it does not.’

‘But never through _my_ means,’ said Lizzie.

‘No, not through you, my angel, but God will take care of His own. You
will not always live under this cloud. You would leave it behind you
to-morrow, if you would but consent to be my honoured wife.’

‘Not while it hangs over me,’ she whispered.

‘And afterwards--’

‘Ah, Captain Norris, do not ask me! You are my best and truest friend,
and the man who would make me happier than any one else in the world.
I quite believe that. I say it after calm deliberation, and a careful
investigation of your character. But I am not in a position to marry
any one, and I never may be. Leave it to the future. If I am ever free,
and you are still of the same mind, I will answer the question you ask
me to-day.’

‘And I will live on that promise, Lizzie,’ replied Hugh Norris, ‘for
I feel the time of your release is not far off. If _you_ persist in
sacrificing yourself for the sake of your oath, your friends are not
bound to see you do it, without making an effort in your behalf. But I
have something to say to you before I go. Will you be very careful of
yourself, for my sake?’

‘In what way?’ she asked, with open eyes. ‘The fever is nearly passed;
and if it had not done so, I am fever-proof.’

‘There is a worse pestilence abroad than the fever, Lizzie,--a lust
for murder, and rapine, and insubordination. The negroes are ripe for
rebellion, and if there should be an insurrection, there may be fire
and bloodshed.’

‘Oh, they will never hurt me!’ replied Lizzie, with a confident smile.

‘My dear, when the thirst for blood gets possession of a mob,
infuriated by a sense of wrong, they do not stay to distinguish friends
from foes. I feel uneasy that you should stay in this bungalow alone,
Lizzie, with no better protection than Rosa. It is not safe. Do you bar
your doors and windows at night?’

‘_Bar my doors and windows?_’ repeated Lizzie, with a smile. ‘Why,
Captain Norris, they stand open night and day; and I don’t believe
there is a fastening to any one of them. The coolies would indeed think
I had gone out of my mind, if they saw me bolting myself in from fear
of them.’

‘But I don’t like it,’ said Hugh Norris, with a sigh. ‘I have witnessed
several mutinies, Lizzie; and if there should be a grudge borne against
you by one person only, it may be sufficient to incense the entire mob.
Suppose they were to fire your bungalow, and destroy all your property?’

‘Captain Norris, do you _really_ think it is so likely to occur?’
demanded Lizzie, struck by the portentous gravity of her friend.

‘I do indeed, or I should not caution you.’

‘Then they may injure the White House, or do some harm to Mr and Mrs
Courtney!’ she exclaimed in alarm. ‘Should you not warn _them_? They
are of far more importance than myself.’

‘I won’t allow that; but Mr Courtney, at least, is aware of the danger.
The planters have held a meeting on the subject, with a view to
inquiring into the coolies’ fancied wrongs, but not, I understand, with
any satisfactory results. In fact, they can’t make out what it is they
do want, and I don’t think the darkies know themselves. Only the demons
of distrust and discontent are stalking abroad, and it behoves every
white man to be extra careful.’

‘Suppose they were to hurt Maraquita,’ suggested Lizzie, with a
shudder. ‘She is not a favourite amongst them, poor child, I know.’

‘And will be none the more for having married the Governor; for
the coloured population have taken a strong dislike to Sir Russell
Johnstone, as the discovered plots against Government House plainly
show. However, she will have every protection that the military forces
can give her, and you have _none_. It is of _you_ that I am thinking,
Lizzie. I wish I could persuade you to leave this bungalow, and go and
stay in the Fort till the danger is over.’

‘Oh, dear no! That is quite impossible. What, run away from my
patients, and leave them to die, for fear lest some of the men amongst
whom I have grown up might turn against me? Captain Norris, you
cannot think what you are asking me. Indeed, I have no fear--not the
slightest. These coolies love me--I know they do--and would die for me
sooner than harm a hair of my head.’

‘Perhaps so, Lizzie; though I have not much faith in any coloured
people. But you have the coolies of other plantations to guard against.
They do not confine their attacks to their employers’ property. If the
hands on Miners’ Gulch or Sans Souci, or any other estate, were to
rise, they might make a raid on Beauregard. Now, do you understand the
danger you may be in?’

‘Yes,’ replied Lizzie thoughtfully; ‘I had not considered that. I will
ask Mr Courtney if old Peter or William Hall may sleep at the bungalow
for the future, though I do not think they will be much protection. But
I am not afraid,--indeed I am not.’

‘You are the most courageous woman I have ever met,’ replied Captain
Norris. ‘I don’t believe you are afraid of anything.’

‘Except of injuring those who have been good to me,’ she said, somewhat
timidly. ‘Captain Norris, there is something on my mind that I feel
bound to mention to you. My name is not Fellows, and I don’t know what
my real name is.’

‘Are you not the Doctor’s daughter, then?’ he demanded, in surprise.

‘Oh, yes, and though it may astonish you hereafter to remember I said
so, I would not give up the knowledge that I am his daughter for all
the world. Poor father! He was so unhappy, so unfortunate, so erring.
His soul was purified like that of an angel by the suffering he passed
through.’

‘Pardon me, Lizzie, but did I hear aright when you said your father was
_erring_?’

‘Yes, Captain Norris, erring beyond the generality of men. I should
not have mentioned it to you, except for the kind sentiments you have
expressed towards me this evening, and which make me feel that, before
they go further, you have a right to know all. The week before he died,
my father made a communication to me which I had never heard before,
and which he forbade me to repeat during his lifetime. His death has,
of course, released me from that duty, and I am sure that he would
have wished you, of all men, to be acquainted with the truth. But I
am afraid that it will shock you terribly, Captain Norris, to hear
that my poor father was a criminal in hiding from the law, and, except
for the goodness of Mr Courtney, he would have suffered the penalty of
transportation. This was the secret of the great friendship between
them, and why my father changed his name, to prevent his retreat from
being discovered.’

‘And yet Mr Courtney remained his friend to his life’s end. How good a
man your father must have been, Lizzie (but for this youthful error),
that his conduct had no power to separate him from the person who knew
and loved him best.’

‘Ah, that is how _I_ look at it!’ cried Lizzie, seizing his hand, and
bursting into tears; ‘but I hardly expected to hear so generous a
judgment from _your_ lips. If suffering, and repentance, and a desire
to make amendment, can atone for a man’s sin, I believe my poor father
fully expiated his. He was an exile from all his relations, and lived
under an assumed name, with no one but myself for a companion, and his
profession for occupation. I am not aware if I sprung from the gutter,
or came of a decent family. All I know is that I am called Elizabeth
Fellows, and that, although guiltless myself, I am not a fit wife for
any honest or honourable man.’

‘You shall not speak to me like that,’ exclaimed Hugh Norris
indignantly, ‘for it is not true! You are fit, in your own sweet self,
to mate with the best man that ever lived; and I consider you as far
above me as the stars are above the earth. But I think you should
ascertain your real name, and who your relations are. Your father is
gone, Lizzie. The discovery can never hurt him now, and there is no
saying how much benefit it may prove to you. Cannot Mr Courtney give
you the necessary information?’

‘I believe he can, but I have shrunk from asking him. This terrible
scandal about me--’

‘Don’t let that prevent you. Be your own brave self, and meet the
calumny as it deserves. Take my advice, Lizzie, and demand an
explanation from Mr Courtney as soon as possible. Life is uncertain,
you know, and he might die before you have ascertained the truth about
yourself. Then you might never hear it.’

‘He will be surprised to find me asking questions about which I have
shown no curiosity for so many years. He will wonder what can have put
it into my head.’

Hugh Norris drew nearer to her, and seized her hand.

‘Say you are engaged to be married to me, and that you consider I have
a right to know everything concerning yourself.’

‘But that would not be true.’

‘Make it true, then. It lies with you to do so.’

‘No, Captain Norris,’ she replied gently, withdrawing her hand from
his. ‘I cannot--at least just yet. Give me a little time to recover
myself. Remember that but a few weeks back I considered myself
betrothed to Monsieur de Courcelles.’

‘And you love him still,’ he answered roughly, in his disappointment.

‘No, no, I do _not_! I despise him for his falsehood and treachery,
and for his despicable conduct in trying to evade the consequences of
his own fault, at the expense of the character of the woman he once
professed to love. If there were not another man in all the world, I
would never place myself again under the yoke of Henri de Courcelles.
But to engage myself so soon to you--it would be hardly decent.’

‘Have your own way then,’ replied Hugh Norris, as he rose from his
seat, and took his cap in his hand. ‘I have asked you for the third
time, and failed. I shall begin to disbelieve in my good luck. It
evidently doesn’t lie in an uneven number.’

‘There are such slight intervals between your askings,’ said Lizzie,
laughing. But she ceased to laugh when she found herself alone.

The honest, disinterested love of Hugh Norris was beginning to work
its way into her heart, and heal the wounds made by the other’s
defalcation. She would have liked to call him back and tell him that
she would follow the dictates of her feelings, and give him his answer
at once, without any regard to the dictum of the world; but womanly
pride prevented her doing so. She was terribly afraid, also, of being
deceived a second time. The scalded dog fears cold water, and though
her sense told her that Hugh Norris’s character and disposition were
utterly different from those of Henri de Courcelles, she dreaded
making another mistake, and finding out, when too late, that they were
unsuited to each other. His summary departure had the effect, however,
of causing her a sleepless night, and as soon as the sun was up the
following morning, she found her way to Mr Courtney’s office.

‘Well, Lizzie,’ said the planter kindly, ‘and so you wouldn’t join our
festivities yesterday. It was a grand sight, though, and you would have
enjoyed it; and I missed you several times during the breakfast, I can
tell you.’

‘You have always been too kind to me, Mr Courtney; but you know
my reasons for not being with you. No one wishes Quita health and
happiness more than I do, and every sort of prosperity; but I was
better at home. Besides, I don’t think I could have come, under any
circumstances,’ continued Lizzie, smiling, ‘for do you know we had two
new arrivals on the plantation yesterday? Chloe, the mulatto, and Aunt
Jane, William Hall’s wife, both had daughters during the forenoon, and
both are determined to call them “Maraquita,” in honour of the wedding.
I did laugh so to see the two black woolly-headed little Maraquitas;
but the proud mothers saw nothing incongruous in the idea.’

‘Naturally,’ replied Mr Courtney, joining in the smile. ‘And what is
the plantation health report to-day?’

‘Very good! I have only two cases of fever left, and they are both
convalescent. The negro boy, Dickey, broke his arm whilst climbing
trees to see the fireworks last night--but it’s a simple fracture;
and I have a few children down with infantile cholera, but nothing
dangerous.’

‘That’s well. And can I do anything for you, Lizzie? Any orders wanted
for medicines, or other necessaries?’

‘No, sir; I have everything I require. But I came up this morning
chiefly to ask you a favour, Mr Courtney. I want you to tell me
everything you may know concerning my father and his family.’

The planter pushed his chair back, and regarded her with surprise.

‘About your father’s family?’ he echoed. ‘But why should you imagine
that I know more than yourself?’

‘Oh, you need attempt no concealment with me, sir. I appreciate the
generosity of your motive, but my father himself has rendered it
unnecessary. A few days before he was taken from us, he related to me
the history of his life, and the reason why he lived a pensioner on
your goodness at Beauregard, instead of taking his place in the world
and society, like other men. Also that he passed under an assumed name,
from fear of the law; but he did not tell me what my real name is, and
I wish to know.’

‘But to what purpose, Lizzie? What good will it do?’

‘I have not even thought of that, sir; but if it brought evil in its
train, I should still ask for the information. For since my father
told me that Fellows is not my own name, I seem to have lost my
individuality, and to be some one else. When I hear it spoken, I don’t
feel as if I had the right to answer; and in fact, Mr Courtney, I beg
of you to satisfy my curiosity in this particular.’

‘Well, Lizzie, you are a woman, and if you have made up your mind on
this subject, you shall be gratified; but I would ask you to think
again first. I don’t believe the information will make you happier.
What is the use of belonging to a family who will not own you? Your
poor father’s relations all turned against him, and will do the same by
his daughter. It was that they might never have the power to insult
him again, that he took the name of Fellows.’

‘So he told me, sir; and also of the crime he committed against you,
and of the generosity with which you forgave it. I feel (and I told him
so) that after that, my life and all I hold dearest in the world should
be at your disposal; and I will sink my personality in the future, as I
have done in the past, if you wish me to do so.’

‘No, no! my dear girl, I don’t consider I have any right to dictate
to you on the subject; and since you desire to know your name, I will
tell it you. You are Elizabeth Ruthin, the granddaughter of General Sir
William and Lady Ruthin of Aberdare in Scotland. Your dear father’s
name was Herbert Ruthin. He was the second son, the eldest, I believe,
is in the army. He has already told you (you say) of the sad event
which brought us together. He was my dearest friend in youth, and to
the day of his death; but he was extravagant and thoughtless, and
hardly thought of the gravity of the act he was committing.’

‘That is _your_ kind way of putting it,’ said Lizzie. ‘My father did
not exonerate himself after that fashion, sir. He saw his fault in its
true light. But my mother’s name--what was that?’

‘Alice Stevens. She was the daughter of a clergyman, and a very sweet
woman, I believe; but she died so early, that I saw but little of her.
Have you any more questions to ask me, Lizzie?’

‘Only, have you any papers to prove what you tell me, Mr Courtney?’

‘What a practical young woman you are. Yes, I have. I loved your dear
father with almost a romantic attachment, and I have kept all the
letters that passed between us as young men, that is, when he was
practically living at home on Sir William Ruthin’s estate of Aberdare,
but going backward and forward to pursue his studies at Edinburgh. His
frequent mention of his home life, and every one connected with it, is
sufficient proof of his identity.’

‘And may I have those letters, sir?’

‘Certainly, if you wish it; and, now I come to think of it, they should
be in your possession, in case of anything happening unexpectedly to
me.’

Mr Courtney rose as he spoke, and unlocking an iron safe, placed a
packet of letters, endorsed ‘Correspondence with my friend H. Ruthin,’
in her hand.

‘And now, Lizzie, what will you do with them?’ he added. ‘Shall you
go post-haste to England by the next steamer, and lay claim to your
father’s property?’

‘Oh, sir, don’t laugh at me! Remember that a felon’s daughter has no
rights.’

‘Lizzie, you shall not use that term of your late father in my
presence!’

‘It is what he called himself, sir,--what, doubtless, his people call
him to this day, if ever they mention his name. Are my grandparents
living, Mr Courtney?’

‘I believe so, my dear, and a very nice couple they were, though I have
heard this trouble was an awful blow to their pride. Scotch pride too.
There’s nothing like it. But Lady Ruthin loved her son Herbert dearly
in the olden days. I wonder if she ever mourns for him now?’

‘Can time wear out a mother’s love?’ said Lizzie. ‘And my poor father
was so loveable and affectionate. I cannot believe sometimes that he
was capable of so base a sin as ingratitude.’

‘Don’t believe it, my dear! It is all over and past now. Think only
of him as one of God’s regenerated children. And if he erred in that
respect, his mantle has not fallen on his daughter, for you have repaid
any kindnesses we may have shown you, twofold.’

‘I have tried to do so,’ replied Lizzie, in a faltering voice, as, with
the packet of letters in her hand, she passed quickly from the office
on her way home.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




CHAPTER III.


A few days later, Hugh Norris rushed unexpectedly into Lizzie’s
presence.

‘I have come to wish you good-bye!’ he exclaimed, in a voice of
distress. ‘I have received orders this morning which compel me to sail
at once; and as the _Trevelyan’s_ repairs are complete, I have no
possible excuse for disobedience.’

Lizzie changed colour slightly as she heard the news, but she answered
quietly,--

‘And I am sure that, under any circumstances, you would make none. Have
you not often told me that a sailor’s first duty is towards his ship?’

‘Ah, yes; that is all very well in theory,’ he said, with a rueful
look, ‘but you cannot know what I feel at leaving you alone, Lizzie, at
this anxious time.’

‘I shall be safe enough, my dear friend, so have no fears for me. When
do you sail?’

‘With the tide this evening, and hardly know how I shall get through
all my work by that time. I didn’t expect to get off for another week.’

‘Then I mustn’t detain you, Captain Norris; though it was good of you
to think of me at the last.’

‘Of whom else should I think? I shall not be away long this time,
Lizzie. I only go to England and back. A couple of months may see me
here again. What can I do for you there?’

‘Nothing, thanks. I have no commissions for you.’

‘Have you spoken to Mr Courtney yet on the subject of your family?’

Lizzie started.

‘Oh, yes; and that reminds me that I have some letters I want to show
you. Wait a moment Captain Norris, whilst I fetch them--’

‘Missy Liz! Missy Liz!’ piped a shrill little voice at the open door.

‘What is it, Pete?’ she asked of a negro boy, whose dusky face was
anxiously peering in upon them.

‘Oh, Missy Liz, please come quick to Mammy Chloe’s baby! That’s kinder
sick; taken drefful, with its eyes turned up so, and its body quite
stiff like a piece of wood!’

‘_Convulsions!_’ exclaimed Lizzie, as she threw the packet of letters
she had just taken from her desk across the table, and put her hat upon
her head. ‘Captain Norris, I _must_ go. Read those whilst I am gone.’

‘But I cannot stay till you come back, Lizzie. Each moment is precious
to me. Give me five minutes more.’

‘I dare not. This is a new-born infant, and a matter of life and death.
God bless you, and good-bye!’

He had only time to wring her hand, when she darted from the house. He
watched her figure running swiftly towards the negroes’ quarters, and
then returned to the shaded apartment, with a deep sigh. What interest
had he then in the packet of letters she had left him to peruse?
Lizzie was gone. He should not see her again, perhaps for months,
and the world seemed to be a blank without her. In the hope of her
speedy return, he sat down for a few minutes more, and mechanically
drew the letters towards him. But as his eye fell upon the written
words his countenance changed, and his expression became one of the
deepest interest. He hastily scanned through the letters, making sundry
notes as he did so, and then, with a long low whistle, he tied the
envelopes together again, and, laying them upon Lizzie’s desk, walked
to the window to watch for some token of her return. None came. The
Indian sun was blazing in all its splendour on the tropical leaves and
flowers, the pathway to the coolies’ huts was one long line of white
dust glittering like golden sand; but not a sound could be heard but
the far-off hum of the workers in the cotton fields, not a living
creature to be seen but Rosa in the shaded verandah, with Maraquita’s
child slumbering on her knees, and an aged negro, long past work, who
was warming his stiffened limbs in the sunshine. Hugh Norris watched
impatiently for a few minutes from the open door, and then, with a
rapid glance at his watch, and a deep sigh, he unwillingly prepared to
leave the bungalow.

‘Be a good girl to your mistress, Rosa,’ he said, as he passed the
yellow girl; ‘take great care of her and the baby, and I’ll bring you a
beautiful string of beads when I come back from England.’

‘Tank you, sar,’ replied Rosa. ‘I’ll be berry good all time you away;
and I’d like a nice shawl too, sar.’

‘Well, you’re not bashful, Rosa,’ replied Hugh Norris, laughing; ‘but
you shall have the shawl too, if you’ll keep your promise. And if there
should be any trouble on the plantation--you know what I mean--take
Missy Lizzie up to the White House at once, and don’t mind what she
says about staying here.’

‘I understand, sar; but nebber you fear. De niggers on dis plantation
too good for dat. They lub Massa and Missus Courtney; and as for Missy
Liz, they die for her--dat’s jes’ so.’

Captain Norris gave a sigh of relief.

‘I hope so, Rosa, and it makes me happier to hear you say it; but still
I am not easy. But take this and buy yourself a new gown; and remember,
when you wear it, that you have promised me to be faithful.’

He thrust a five-dollar note into her hand as he spoke, and with one
yearning look in the direction of the negro quarters, walked rapidly
away towards the town. Rosa rolled her eyes with delight at the feel of
the five-dollar note.

‘_He_ gone ’coon too,’ she thought, with a sapient air; ‘dar’s another
what Missy Liz have done for. And she’s so quiet all de time. Dat’s
what beats me. ’Pears as if she didn’t care if they _was_ “gone” or
not. Wall, if dey all gib me five-dollar notes, I wish there was a
thousand of them.’

Meanwhile, Lizzie was kneeling down beside Mammy Chloe’s straw
mattress, putting the poor little black baby into hot baths, and
watching by it as tenderly as if it had been a princess of the blood
royal, until the attack of convulsions had ceased, and it was sleeping
peacefully on its mother’s breast again.

‘Dar now, dat’s jes’ wonderful!’ exclaimed the crowd of dusky mortals,
who had anxiously watched her proceedings, ‘dat babby jes’ dyin’,
’pears as though death was in its face, and its body cold and stiff
a’ready, and Missy Liz comes ’long and touches it, and it’s as well as
ever in half an hour. Missy Liz, you _too_ clever! You like de Lord,
Who touches with little finger, and ebberybody well again. You jes’
white angel, Missy Liz--no mistake about dat.’

‘My dear friends, you make too much of my poor services for you. You
could all do nearly as much for yourselves, if you would only let me
teach you. Mammy Chloe made her baby sick. She says she gave it some
sweet potato yesterday.’

‘Only tiny leetel bit, Missy Liz, out ob my own mouth!’ cried the
mother.

‘However little it was, Chloe, it was too much for a baby of three days
old. How often must I tell you to give your little infants nothing
but the breast? Your baby is safe again now, but if you feed her with
potatoes, and rice, and bread, she will have another fit, and next time
I may be able to do nothing for her.’

Hereupon rose a chorus of dissentient voices.

‘Oh, Missy Liz, how you saying dat? You can cure ebberyting, Missy Liz.
You mended Dicky’s arm, and cured old Jake’s rheumatiz, and bringed de
life back to Clairey, when she fell into de water, and was dead.’

‘No, no!’ disclaimed Lizzie, laughing, ‘she wasn’t _dead_, Betsy. I
can’t go as far as to bring the dead to life again.’

‘B’lieve you could, Missy Liz, if you tried, for you’se jes’ wonderful
all round; and de niggers nebber had a better friend--dat’s so.’

‘Ay, Massa Courcelles say dat last night, Auntie Bell. He say Massa
Courtney and de other planters dam bad trash, and better out ob de way;
but nobody must hurt Missy Liz, because she’s de niggers’ friend, and
lub ’em jes’ like herself.’

‘_Monsieur de Courcelles!_’ echoed Lizzie, thinking the negress had
made some mistake. ‘How could he have said that last night? He is not
in San Diego.’

‘Massa Courcelles not in San Diego?’ repeated the shrill voice of
Betsy. ‘Oh, Missy Liz, who tell you dat ar lie? Massa Courcelles nebber
leave de plantation yet. He’s living up at old Josh’s shanty, t’other
side of de avenue, and he comes along of evenings, and talks to us all
of our troubles.’

Lizzie’s brow flushed darkly. What could be the meaning of Henri de
Courcelles hiding himself on Beauregard? For what reason was he hanging
about the plantation, and mixing familiarly with the people whom he
professed to abhor?

‘And what troubles have you that you can confide to a gentleman’s ears,
Betsy?’ she demanded reprovingly. ‘Monsieur de Courcelles was not so
kind to you whilst he was your overseer, that you should expect to
find a friend in him now. There is some deeper meaning, I am afraid,
in his pretended interest in you, than that of making your life more
comfortable.’

‘You may well say that, Miss Lizzie!’ cried Jerusha, who was standing
in the crowd, with her baby in her arms. ‘Dat man nebber sorry for
nobody but himself. What he care if our work is hard, or our backs ache
wid de sun, or our huts is dark, or de food common? Did he care when
_my_ back was bowed wid pain, and my head wid shame, and I couldn’t
hardly stand upon my legs? Didn’t he strike me and my poor leetle boy,
and say, “D--n you! Go hell! I make you work like a dog”?’

‘Hush, hush, Jerusha!’ exclaimed Lizzie, as she rose and placed her
hand kindly on the shoulder of the excited coolie. ‘I know you have had
your troubles, my poor girl. I know Monsieur de Courcelles has wronged
you terribly, but you must try to be patient, and forgive, as--as--we
all have to do sometimes.’

But Jerusha shook the compassionating touch off her.

‘No, Missy Liz,’ she said loudly, ‘I _can’t_ forgive. If he had given
me one kind word, I’se have worked for him to my last day, and been
glad only to see him well and happy; but he’s bad all through, to de
very core. He wrong more dan me. Ah, I know plenty tings people not
thinking! and now he come and ’cite dese niggers to revenge demselves,
and send all de planters out of de island, and keep de fields for dere
own use. Dat his way of “paying out” somebody, Missy Liz. But _I_ know
him and his dark ways, and if dese people rise ’gainst de planters,
Massa Courcelles shall be de first to go, if I kill him with my own
hand.’

‘_Rise!_’ cried Lizzie indignantly. ‘Surely, after all the kindness
they have experienced from Mr and Mrs Courtney, there is no one on this
plantation so wicked as to dream of rising. What should they do it
for? What more can they desire than they already possess? There are
no hands on the island more looked after and cared for than those on
Beauregard.’

‘I dunno dat,’ chimed in a discontented voice. ‘San Souci niggers gets
a tot of rum ebery night, and a quarter of a pound more meat than _we_
do.’

‘Who said that?’ exclaimed Lizzie quickly, turning round. ‘Ah, it was
_you_, Aunt Sally! That’s a nice grateful thing to say, when you were
down with fever three weeks this year, and received your wages all the
same, though you couldn’t do a stroke of work. That’s the best return
you can make, is it? And you know why the San Souci hands get extra
rations well enough,--because the plantation is so near the swamp, and
so unhealthy in consequence, that they are half their time down with
fever and ague. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, to set such a bad
example to the others.’

‘I only repeating what Massa Courcelles say,’ replied Aunt Sally
sulkily.

‘Then Monsieur de Courcelles should be ashamed of himself. I have no
hesitation in saying it,’ continued Lizzie warmly. ‘I have been brought
up amongst you all since I was a little child, and I am a witness to
the kind and indulgent treatment you have received from your employers.
Mr Courtney has never spared money or trouble to make his hands
comfortable and happy, and if you have ever had any cause of complaint,
it has been against this very man who is inciting you now to feel
rebellious and ungrateful!’

‘De oberseer only act on de Massa’s orders,’ grumbled Aunt Sally again.

‘It is not true!’ cried Lizzie indignantly. ‘Mr Courtney never ordered
Monsieur de Courcelles to do anything that was cruel or unjust. He left
a great deal of power in his hands, because he believed him to be a
good man, and worthy of his trust; but he found out his mistake, and
that is why he has been sent away.’

‘Missy Liz speaks God’s truth,’ exclaimed Jerusha, ‘and you niggers
know she do! What hasn’t dat man done to us? Didn’t he starve old Jakes
for three days ’cause he not clean horse proper? and didn’t he strike
Aunt Hannah ’cross de face with his whip, and make de ’sypelas come
out? Didn’t he take me up to his bungalow, and tell me I lib dere all
my life, and den kick me out like a dog ’cause I got a poor leetel
baby? Haven’t you niggers said, times out of mind, you’d like to kill
him for all he done, and that it was only ’cause Missy Liz like him
dat he wasn’t dead long ago? If you says “No” now, den you’se all
liars, and a lot of trash dat is afraid to stick to your own words.’

‘Jerusha is right,’ said Lizzie. ‘You were all afraid of Monsieur de
Courcelles, and spoke against him, whilst he was your overseer; but now
that he has no authority over you, you allow his specious tongue to
lead your minds astray. My dear friends, be warned in time. Monsieur de
Courcelles has no right to be on this plantation at all, and he only
comes here for a bad purpose. You mustn’t listen to him. I am sorry
to say it before you, but he is not a good man. I loved him once very
dearly,’ continued Lizzie, with a great effort, and her cheeks dyed
crimson, ‘and believed him to be all that was upright and honourable,
but I found out I was wrong, as you will find out you are wrong, when
it may be too late. Do you know that I have but to go to Mr Courtney,
and inform him of the mutinous ideas you are openly expressing, to have
you put into prison? And the new Governor is very strict, as you may
have heard, and makes an example of all rebels. He is determined to
crush the feeling of mutiny out of San Diego, whatever it may cost.’

‘Perhaps Gubnor get crushed hisself,’ suggested Betsy sullenly.

‘Don’t talk nonsense!’ cried Lizzie sharply. ‘What could a handful of
coloured people do against the military forces? You would all be shot
down and killed, before you knew where you were.’

She spoke boldly and decisively, but her heart was sinking all the
while. If the negro population of the island rose _en masse_, the
slaughter might be terrible before peace could be restored amongst
them. She thought of her benefactors the Courtneys, of poor heedless
Maraquita and the kind-hearted Governor,--a little too of herself, and
shuddered. And Henri de Courcelles also. Would he not be overwhelmed
by the storm he was taking such pains to raise? At all risks, she said
to herself, she would see him, and warn him of the danger he ran in
turning against his late employers.

‘Which of you has been listening to Monsieur de Courcelles’
inflammatory talk?’ she asked presently, as she looked round upon the
women.

‘All of us,’ answered Aunt Sally. ‘He come down to our huts of
evenings, and sit dere, and tell us how Massa Courtney treat him wuss
den nigger, and how we’se free coloured people, and should stan’ no
nonsense.’

‘He is worse than I thought him,’ said Lizzie. ‘He must stop it at
once, or I shall inform Mr Courtney, and have him turned off the
premises.’

‘_Kill him_, Missy Liz, _kill him_!’ hissed Jerusha, between her
clenched teeth; ‘dat is de only way to crush de rattlesnake.’

‘Don’t speak like that, Jerusha. It is wicked, and you do not mean it.’

But the Indian girl _did_ mean it all the same.

‘Where did you say that Monsieur de Courcelles was staying, Betsy?’
inquired Lizzie, a few moments after.

‘At Uncle Josh’s shanty, t’other side of avenue. He mayn’t be dere now,
Missy Liz, but he sleeps dere ob nights.’

‘If de door would fasten, I’d set fire to dat rotten shanty, before
anoder moon,’ remarked Jerusha.

‘Well, I must leave you now,’ said the Doctor’s daughter, with a deep
sigh; ‘but remember what I say. The next time I hear any talk like this
of to-day, I shall go straight to Mr Courtney, and ask him to dismiss
the whole lot of you. Then you will starve without any work to do, and
will be sorry you left your comfortable huts, and kind employers, at
the instigation of a villain.’

‘Massa Courtney starve too when he got no coolies to pick cotton and
rice for him,’ muttered some one in the crowd.

Lizzie saw plainly that the disaffection had spread too effectually
to be quenched by her single arguments, and so she left them, and,
wrapped in thought, walked leisurely away from the coolie quarters.
Her first step, she felt, must be to see Henri de Courcelles, and with
that intention she directed her feet towards Uncle Josh’s shanty,
which stood somewhat apart from the rest. The sun was now high in the
heavens, and no European was abroad who could rest at home. Lizzie’s
broad-brimmed hat and white umbrella sheltered her sufficiently in the
shady plantation, but she would not have ventured out, except at the
call of duty, at so late an hour in the morning, and so she firmly
calculated on finding Monsieur de Courcelles within the hut. She was
not disappointed. Old Uncle Josh, who was an aged negro almost past
work, and only kept to do light jobs about the garden and stables,
came to the door with much caution to answer Lizzie’s knock for
admittance, and was about to declare that he knew nothing of Monsieur
de Courcelles, when a voice from within called out to him to admit
the lady, and not make a d--d fool of himself. So Lizzie passed in,
and found herself face to face with the man she had believed to be
hundreds of miles away.

‘Monsieur,’ she commenced hurriedly, ‘I should not be here, except that
I have something of the utmost importance to say to you. You must send
this man away, so that he may not hear us.’

‘Go up to the plantation, Uncle Josh, or anywhere you like, and don’t
come back for an hour,’ said De Courcelles, in a voice of authority;
and the old negro nodded in acquiescence, and shambled off.

‘Are you sure he is safe?’ demanded Lizzie, as the man disappeared.

‘Safe as death! I have him under my thumb,’ was the confident reply.
‘And now, what can you have to say to me, Lizzie? After our last
parting, I hardly expected you would seek me out of your own accord.’

‘Neither should I have done so, except that the welfare of those I
love more than myself is at stake. Monsieur, why are you still on the
plantation of Beauregard?’

‘I think that is _my_ business sooner than yours.’

‘Indeed it is my business,--the business of every one who regards
the Courtneys as benefactors. Your presence here can be for no good
purpose. It spells ruin and devastation for them. By your false
arguments you are inciting these ignorant coloured people to rebel; you
are making them discontented--not to say bloodthirsty; and the upshot
of your evil counsel will be a mutiny, that will involve their own
downfall with those of their employers, and, perhaps, lead to murder
and rapine.’

‘And what do I care if it does? It will be no more than they deserve.’

‘Oh, Henri, you cannot think what you are saying! Surely you would
never be so wicked! What have the Courtneys done to make you so
revengeful? They were always the kindest of patrons to you, until this
unhappy business occurred with Maraquita. And even to the last they
were both just and generous. How can you find it in your heart to
injure them?’

‘They are Maraquita’s parents,’ he answered gloomily.

‘And would you avenge her falsehood--her broken faith--upon them?
Monsieur, that is not like yourself! It is unworthy of any one calling
himself a man.’

‘What right had they to turn me off Beauregard, then? It was only done
to shield _her_, because they suspect the truth, and are afraid I might
prove a dangerous rival. _She_ marries the Governor of San Diego,
and is lapped in luxury and comfort, whilst _I_ (who am morally her
husband) am sent adrift, like a rudderless boat, to toss anywhere on
the sea of life. But I’ll be even with her yet, and her bald-headed old
ape of a partner too.’

‘Henri, you must not speak like that,’ said Lizzie firmly. ‘I feel
for your disappointment--indeed I do; it must be a bitterly hard
one; but to try and revenge yourself in this manner is a cowardly
and wicked thing. The feeling of disaffection is rife enough in the
island, without your adding to it. I beg--I pray of you to leave the
plantation, and not return. You have no right here, and if you remain,
I shall consider it my duty to inform Mr Courtney; and you know how
painful it would be for me to say anything to him against you. Henri,
for the sake of old times, do as I ask you.’

‘You are a good woman, Lizzie--I have always maintained that--and, if
you wish it, I will go. But, mind you, my departure will not stop the
rising mutiny, any more than my remaining here hatched it into life.
The native population is ripe for rebellion, and it is only now a
question of weeks--perhaps days--before they burst into open revolt. I
am glad I have seen you, to warn you against it. The coolies will not
harm you, I am sure--they love and reverence you too much--but they may
frighten you, and I should wish to prevent even that. But as for the
rest--well! I shall not be satisfied till I see the White House and
Government House in ashes, and their owners weltering in their blood!’

The expression of his face was so murderous as he spoke, that Lizzie
fairly screamed,--

‘Oh, Henri, Henri, surely you are _not_ in earnest! You would never
countenance nor encourage so horrible an idea! You would save those who
have been good to you--whom you once believed you loved--at the risk of
your own life! Tell me it is the truth, for I will never leave you till
you acknowledge it.’

Henri de Courcelles seized her two hands in a grip of iron, and drew
her towards him, until their faces nearly touched each other.

‘Lizzie Fellows,’ he exclaimed roughly, to hide his emotion, ‘if I
could have gone on loving you, if that heartless jade had not come
between us with her mock innocence and her fatal beauty and blinded my
eyes to your superior virtues, I should have been a happier and better
man to-day. But now, I know it is too late. You have ceased to love me,
and I shall never again be able to lay any claim to your hand.’

‘But I have not ceased to care if you are a good man or a bad one,
Henri,’ she answered, through her tears; ‘and I entreat you now, by
your memory of the past, to do what I ask you, and leave Beauregard.’

‘I _will_, because you ask me; but, as I have already told you, it
will not make the difference you imagine. I could no more stay the
progress of this mutiny now, than I could single-handed quench the fire
of a burning city. It has gone too far for that. Besides, I have no
desire to do so. My heart thirsts for revenge, and I shall only quit
Beauregard to join another set of rebels, and perhaps a more dangerous
one.’

‘Henri, cannot I persuade you to give up that madness also?’

‘No, Lizzie, the time is past. Maraquita’s falsehood has made me
reckless, and I only live now to one end,--to see her punished as she
deserves.’

‘Leave her to Heaven, Henri. Do you think her infidelity will not be
its own punishment? How many nights will she lie awake, poor child,
wanting your love, wanting _mine_, which used, at one time, to make
all her happiness? How often will her heart yearn--for Quita _has_ a
heart, Henri, though it is choked up with vanity and love of self--for
the days she spent with us,--for the poor little innocent she has left
behind her? Ah, neither you nor I can measure the pain which remorse
will bring her!’

‘Don’t you believe it. You judge her by yourself, and your sex is the
only likeness between you. She is all bad, Lizzie, false from head to
foot, and the sooner the world is rid of her, the better.’

‘And are _you_ the one who should be her judge?’ replied Lizzie
mournfully; ‘can you bring clean hands into court, Henri, with which to
condemn her? No, I am not alluding to myself. It was not your fault,
perhaps, if you found upon a closer acquaintance that you could not
love me as you once imagined; but what of Jerusha--the poor little
coolie girl with whom you were carrying on a pretension of affection
at the same time that you were deceiving Maraquita? How can you find it
in your heart to contemplate revenge on her for an error of which you
were guilty yourself?’

‘You women don’t understand these things, Lizzie. No one but a little
fool like Jerusha would have believed for a moment that I was in
earnest, or that such an irregular business could possibly last more
than a few months.’

‘Yet Jerusha vows to have her revenge on you, as warmly as you do to
have yours on Maraquita.’

At this piece of intelligence, Henri de Courcelles changed colour.

‘If that is the case, your advice has not come too soon. These coolies
are the very devil to stick to an idea if they once get it in their
head, and I shall wake up some night, perhaps, to find Miss Jerusha’s
fingers at my throat, if I don’t clear out. Curse the little jade!
She’s been more trouble to me than she’s worth.’

‘And may be the occasion of more yet,’ replied Lizzie, who saw the way,
by taking advantage of his fear, to make him hold to his purpose. ‘She
is dead set against you, Henri--I am witness to that--and constantly
speaking of her wrongs to the rest. She swears she will have your life
some way or other; and for that reason only, I think it would be much
wiser of you to leave the plantation. She is quite capable indeed of
betraying you to Mr Courtney; and such a proceeding might lead to your
arrest, on a suspicion of felonious purposes. Now, do you see the
danger you are in?’

‘Indeed I do, and I shall not sleep another night on Beauregard: you
may take my word for that. Indeed, when I come to think of it, I cannot
imagine how I can have been such a fool as to run the risk for so long.
There are plenty of places in San Diego where I can be safer, and bide
my time for my revenge.’

‘Do more, whilst you are about it, Henri. Leave San Diego altogether,
and your idea of revenge behind you. It will never make you any
happier, and it may cast a haunting regret over all your future. And
you are still young. There is perhaps a happy life looming for you in
the distance, if you will try and forget the failure of your youth.’

‘No, Lizzie; you speak to deaf ears. I will fulfil your wish, and leave
this place. Be satisfied with that, and when I am gone, forget all
about me. I was never worthy to kiss even the hem of your garment, and
my darkest shame will ever be that I permitted you to waste a single
thought upon me. Goodbye, my dear. Don’t stay here any longer, for your
presence, and the memories it brings with it, unman and make a coward
of me. By this time to-morrow I shall have left Beauregard for ever.’

‘Thank Heaven for that,’ replied Lizzie, as she obeyed his request, and
left the hut.

Her mind was not wholly at ease concerning him, because she saw that he
was doggedly bent upon having his own way; but she had, at all events,
succeeded in scaring him off the property of her benefactors, and
trusted that when his evil influence was removed from them, the hands
of Beauregard would return to their former condition of obedience and
contentment.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




CHAPTER IV.


Lizzie had guessed correctly when she said that Maraquita’s infidelity
would prove its own punishment. The honeymoon at Santa Lucia was not
a very satisfactory one, at least for the bride. So long as the day
endured, and Quita’s frivolous soul could be gorged on flattery, and
the servile congratulations paid her by her husband’s guests, she was
contented with her lot, and disposed to believe it would turn out all
she had prognosticated for herself. To feel she was the woman of most
importance in the island, and that she had horses and carriages, and
servants at her command, and that a military guard accompanied her
wherever she went, and everybody turned to gaze after her, and said to
one another, ‘There goes the Governor’s bride,’ was quite sufficient
to inflate her foolish little heart with pride, and make her forget,
for the time being, the penalty attached to it all. But one cannot pass
one’s entire life in public, and when the hours of domestic happiness
arrived, they were very trying. _Then_, if she had had a handsome
young husband suited to herself in age and disposition waiting on her
every look and smile while he whispered words of love in her ear, how
delighted would Maraquita have been to fly to the sacred recesses of
her own apartments, and shut the world and its hollow compliments
outside. But now such moments became torture. Sir Russell had been
sufficiently trying as a lover, but as a husband he became simply
unendurable. His middle-aged ecstasies over his new possession, his
fussy attentions, his twaddling conversation about things and people of
which she had never heard, soon bored his young wife to extinction. And
he was not slow to find out that he did not interest her. He noted the
vacant look, the wandering attention, the deep sighs that occasionally
interrupted their intercourse, and commenced to feel the first twinges
of jealousy, and to wonder if there had been any other admirer in the
background whom Lady Johnstone had not entirely forgotten.

If he could only have read her thoughts as she sat by his side when
they were alone together, or lay for hours during the silent watches
of the night gazing open-eyed at the dark blue heaven with its myriad
clusters of stars, how unpleasantly satisfied he would have been.
It was at those times that the newly-made Lady Johnstone’s thoughts
returned to the past which she had so pertinaciously thrust from her,
and that she longed (with the contradiction of human nature) to be
able to take back again to her heart the fate which she had held in
her hand, without the moral courage to grasp it. It was then that the
glorious dark eyes of Henri de Courcelles seemed to gaze into her own
like twin stars, just as they used to look at those heavenly moments
when they sat together on the bench in the Oleander Thicket, and her
lover’s arms were folded closely round her, as though to shield her
from all harm.

Henri de Courcelles had innumerable faults, but he had loved this girl
with all his heart, and, now that it was too late, Maraquita seemed
to realise it for the first time. There was another regret, too, that
intruded itself into her married life, a regret that seemed to grow
with the days, and assume such inconceivable proportions that she was
tempted to cry out that she could bear it no longer, but must at all
risks rush back to San Diego and see _her child_. Sometimes the unhappy
young mother would dream that the infant was dying, and wake up with
the tears upon her cheek; sometimes that it really belonged to Lizzie,
and she had lost the right to call it hers; and sometimes that she
held it to her heart, and was proud and fond of it like other mothers,
until she discovered it was a poisonous asp, stinging the bosom on
which it lay. Such thoughts and dreams were not good for the young
bride to indulge in, and she grew paler and thinner every day. Sir
Russell called in a doctor, who declared Lady Johnstone’s condition
to be due to weakness, consequent on her late attack of fever, and
advised her immediate return to San Diego, as possessing a higher and
more bracing air than Santa Lucia. Sir Russell sought his wife’s rooms,
all fuss and anxiety on account of her low spirits, and communicated
the medical man’s opinion to her. They had been married now for three
weeks, and the Governor had already come to the conclusion that a
domestic life was not all roses. He found his beautiful Maraquita
rather petulant at times, and disposed to have her own way. She was not
very affectionate either, and flouted his attempts at love-making in a
manner sufficient to cure the most ardent lover. He was disappointed
certainly; he had imagined women were more open to their husbands’
advances; but, after all, he knew very little about the sex, and
was quite ready, as yet, to lay the failure at his own door. He was
not fit, he told himself, to be the companion of such an innocent,
guileless creature; she felt the difference between his society and
that she had left behind her. The position was new and strange to
her. She would be her own sweet self again when they returned to San
Diego and she was restored to her parents’ arms. The alacrity with
which Maraquita assented to his proposal to go home, confirmed his
sentiments upon the subject. It would have been somewhat of a shock to
him could he have read her thoughts on the occasion; but how few of
us could afford to read the mind of our dearest friend, without fear.
Maraquita’s face glowed, and her heart beat faster, as she pictured
herself settled at Government House. She would have a chance then of
seeing Lizzie again--perhaps of seeing Henri de Courcelles. Whilst
it lay in his power to deprive her of her promised dignity, she had
dreaded his presence, and hoped he was far away from San Diego; but
now that her position as Lady Johnstone was secure, and no one could
dethrone her, she began to crave for the excitement of seeing her lover
again. Weak and vacillating as she had been as Maraquita Courtney,
she was even worse as Lady Johnstone, for now her weakness threatened
to become a crime. Her depression of spirits and her feverish anxiety
were so patent, that the first time Mrs Courtney was alone with her
daughter, she taxed her with the change.

‘Whatever is the matter with you, my dear child?’ she exclaimed; ‘you
don’t seem half so happy as I expected to see you. Here you are, the
Governor’s wife, and the lady of highest rank in San Diego, and yet
you seem quite melancholy. You don’t mean to tell me that you are
disappointed, or that your marriage has not proved all you expected it
to be?’

‘Oh, no, mamma! I suppose it’s all right! I’ve got the position and
the money, and no one can have been such a fool as to think I married
a bald-headed stupid old man like Sir Russell for anything else.’

Mrs Courtney lifted her hands and eyebrows in surprise.

‘My dear! my dear! remember he’s the Governor!’

‘How can I forget it? Isn’t it dinned into my ears from sunrise to
sunset! Of course he’s the Governor! I am sure he need be, for he’s
very little else! But I’m afraid that fact is not sufficient for one’s
happiness.’

‘My darling, what more can you possibly want? A splendid house, and
number of servants, equipages, and horses, jewels, dresses, ornaments,
and the whole island at your feet! Why, I think you are the luckiest
girl I ever heard of.’

But her eloquence was interrupted by Maraquita flinging herself
headlong on a couch, and sobbing out,--

‘I’m not! I’m not! I’m as unhappy as I can be! I wish I had never
consented to give up my poor Henri! I dream of him every night!’

But at that confession, her mother’s attempt at consolation changed to
righteous scorn.

‘Then you must be the wickedest girl alive, Maraquita! Dreaming of any
man but your husband, and not married a month yet! You ought to be
ashamed to mention such a thing, even to your mother! And that wretched
low-born overseer too--a half-caste Spaniard, with neither birth nor
money. I am utterly surprised at you!’

‘Mamma, you sha’n’t abuse him! He may be everything you say, but he’s
gloriously handsome; and he loved me, and I ought to have married him!
Why didn’t you manage it some way? You knew all about us, and you could
have persuaded papa to settle something on him, and let us live with
you at Beauregard, and then it would have been all right, and I should
have been much happier there with him and my poor little baby--’

‘Maraquita! are you _mad_?’ cried her mother, clapping her hand before
her daughter’s mouth; ‘or do you want every official in Government
House to hear your shameful secret? Good heavens, it is enough to make
me regret I ever interfered to save you from your own folly! If you
confess the truth now, you will make matters a thousand times worse
than if you had made the low marriage you seem to hanker after. It
would be a nice scandal for the island, to hear that the Governor
had repudiated you on account of your former light conduct! _Then_
you would lose everything--reputation, position, and wealth, and gain
nothing in exchange.’

‘I could go to Henri,’ said Maraquita doggedly, for she possessed
one of those persistent natures that can work themselves up into a
belief, and she was working herself up to believe that she was still
passionately in love with De Courcelles, and ready to sacrifice
everything for him.

‘That you certainly could not,’ returned Mrs Courtney, determined to
cut her folly in the bud, ‘for he is not in San Diego.’

‘Where is he then?’ exclaimed Quita, raising herself from the sofa
cushion.

‘He has gone to America,’ replied her mother, ignoring her regard for
truth so long as she drove this nonsense out of Maraquita’s mind.

‘_To America!_’ repeated the girl. ‘Oh, why did he go there? What is he
going to do?’

‘That is his business, not ours; but I believe his family live in the
States. However, he will never return to San Diego, and so you see how
little you will gain, and how much you may lose, by indulging in this
sentimental folly. Indeed, I cannot understand you, Quita! Your one
desire last month was to hear that this most objectionable young man
had left the island, and now you are moaning after him as if he had
been your dearest friend instead of your worst enemy.’

‘He loved me!’ sobbed Maraquita.

‘I don’t think he _did_ love you,’ rejoined Mrs Courtney. ‘No man who
loved you would have treated you in so dishonourable a manner. However,
he has been ready enough to run away from you, and now the best thing
you can do is to forget all about him. Indeed, you must _compel_
yourself to do so, my dear. You owe it not only to your husband, but
to your father and mother. And just think what a wicked thing you are
doing too--crying after another man when you are Sir Russell’s wife.
You horrify and grieve me beyond measure!’

Yes, Mrs Courtney was perfectly right!

It was both weak and wicked of Lady Johnstone to let old memories
obtrude themselves upon her wedded life, but she had been far weaker
and wickeder when she gave them up against her inclination. An eligible
marriage is no cure for an ill-placed love, and the laws neither of
God nor man have any power to quench passion in the human heart. They
may help the victim to keep it under, but it is the one feeling that
refuses to be silent until it has died a natural death. Whilst poor
faulty Maraquita believed that Henri de Courcelles was lying in ambush
somewhere ready to appear before her at any moment, holding the pledge
of their love in his arms, as he did upon her wedding-day, she had had
a great fear mingled with her insane desire to see him again; but now
that her mother assured her he had left San Diego for ever, and she
should never be able to ask his forgiveness, her dread of him vanished,
to give place to a morbid regret. She wept so much and ate so little
during the first days of her installation at Government House, that
Mrs Courtney (who had been invited by Sir Russell to stay with her
daughter) became quite seriously alarmed for the consequences of her
grief, and tried all she could to rouse her by a description of the
splendid preparations which were being made for the ball to be given in
honour of their return.

‘My dear girl, I never saw anything like it! Sir Russell is certainly
the most generous of men, and the whole island is talking of him. He
has given a _carte blanche_ order for all the white flowers procurable,
and the ballroom will be decorated with nothing else. It will look like
a huge bridal bouquet.’

‘Or a funeral shroud,’ suggested Quita, with a disagreeable laugh.

‘My darling! what a strange thing to say. We won’t have it _too_ white,
if you have such unpleasant comparisons to make. I will suggest to
Sir Russell to have the wreaths tied with blue ribbons; or pink roses
interspersed with the white ones, would look very pretty.’

‘I’m sure I shouldn’t take the trouble, if I were you, mamma! Let him
have his own way. What does it signify what it looks like?’

‘I think it signifies a great deal,’ returned Mrs Courtney warmly; ‘and
when I come to consider the matter, white will not set off the dresses
as a little colour would do. For most of the ladies will be in white;
and you will wear your wedding-dress, of course, Maraquita.’

‘I suppose so, mamma.’

‘You will have to open the ball with Colonel Symonds, being the next
gentleman in rank to the Governor on the island, and Sir Russell must
lead out Mrs Symonds. It will be a magnificent sight, with all the
officers in full uniform, and the military bands in the orchestra. The
supper-tables are to be laid for three hundred, though I don’t know
where they are all to come from; but Sir Russell is _so_ generous.
It will be the proudest day of my life--next to your wedding-day,
Maraquita.’

‘I shall be very glad if you enjoy it, mamma.’

‘Come, come, my dear girl, I won’t have you speak of it in that
uninterested tone, as if you were an old woman of eighty, past all
thoughts of dancing and admiration. Why, there’s not a girl in the
island that dances better than you do, Quita; and think how every eye
will be fixed upon you, and how the women will envy your dress and your
beautiful jewels, and wish they had your luck. Why, there’s not a girl
in San Diego but would give her eyes to stand in your shoes.’

‘I daresay! but they pinch sometimes,’ said Quita, with a yawn.

‘My darling, all wives’ shoes pinch sometimes,’ replied her mother.
‘Marriage is not a bed of roses, any more than any other condition. But
it is necessary to a woman’s well-doing, and you have drawn a splendid
prize in the matrimonial lottery. And now what time will your ladyship
please to drive this afternoon?’

Quita smiled. She liked to be called ‘your ladyship.’ If there was one
thing above another that reconciled her to the step she had taken, it
was to hear herself addressed by that much-coveted title. What children
most women are, after all, and how easily caught with glittering
baubles. Jewels and a title make up the sum total of domestic
happiness for the majority of the sex. Maraquita believed herself to be
wretched for the loss of Henri de Courcelles, but had she been put to
the test, she would not have given up her newly-acquired dignity, nor
one of her sets of ornaments, to bring him to her feet again. She would
sit for hours with her jewel cases in her lap, fingering the bracelets,
and rings, and necklaces that Sir Russell had given her, and holding
up the blood-red rubies, and the grass-green emeralds, and the deep
blue sapphires, and the pure white diamonds to the light, laughing to
see them catch the sun’s rays, and shoot out a thousand little stars
of fire to meet them. And as the day for the grand ball drew near, she
seemed to recover her cheerfulness. Mrs Courtney was delighted to see
the interest she suddenly evinced about her dress, and the ornaments
she was to wear with it, and the manner in which she should arrange
her hair; and when the evening arrived, she was as flushed with
excitement, and as eager for the festivities to be a success, as any
one could have wished to see her. It was a proud moment for Mr and Mrs
Courtney when they stood by the side of the dais which had been erected
for the convenience of the newly-married pair to receive their numerous
guests. Sir Russell, in his Governor’s uniform, looked imposing if
not handsome; and Maraquita, arrayed in her wedding garments, stood
by his side like a dainty fairy. All San Diego--that is, all the
respectable portion of it--passed before them in single file, to offer
their congratulations before the ball commenced, and there was but one
opinion of the appearance of the bride--that she was the handsomest
woman on the island. Mr and Mrs Courtney swelled with pride as they
overheard the various comments on her appearance, and felt rewarded at
last for all the trouble and anxiety their wayward daughter had given
them. The ballroom at Government House was a long apartment, with five
or six windows on either side, all open on account of the heat. The
spaces between these windows were hidden with trophies of flags, and
flowers, so that it looked like a vast bower of leaves and blossoms,
open at intervals to the outer air. Six large chandeliers pendant
from the ceiling, and laden with wax candles, made the ballroom a
blaze of light, and rendered it a conspicuous object from the outside.
That the poorer part of the population should not consider themselves
entirely shut out from the wedding festivities, Sir Russell had ordered
a handsome display of fireworks to be sent up from the Fort at ten
o’clock, and hundreds of coloured people were waiting around, in
anticipation of the display. The supper, which had taken many days to
prepare, was laid in another room on the same floor, on a series of
tables, which were glittering with knives, and forks, and glass, and
silver; and everything promised to go as merrily as the proverbial
marriage bell. As soon as they had received their guests, Sir Russell
and Lady Johnstone opened the ball with the two people of highest rank
present, and dancing became general.

Maraquita, who was passionately fond of the exercise, did not miss
a single turn. Her card was naturally soon filled up, for every man
present tried to secure a waltz with the bride, and she flew all over
the room like a beautiful Bacchante, flushed and smiling, whilst her
parents looked on with admiring complacency, and one at least thanked
Heaven secretly that the threatened danger was at an end, and her
child had begun at last to properly appreciate the benefits of her
high position. The evening had waxed towards midnight, and though
the dancers gave no signs of fatigue, Sir Russell had just made his
way towards Mr and Mrs Courtney to consult them whether it would not
be wise to give the signal for supper, when a loud cry of alarm and
sounds of confusion were heard to proceed from the apartment where it
was laid. Sir Russell turned pale. He had heard something of the sort
before, and guessed its import; but he had no time to communicate his
fears to his friends, when a crowd of natives rushed into the room,
armed with pistols and knives, and every open window was simultaneously
blocked with dusky faces, ready to bar all egress, or to leap inside
at a moment’s notice. The band stopped playing at once--the dancers
screamed with alarm--all the men felt their hearts stop, and many of
the women fainted without warning. But Sir Russell was English bred,
and rose to the occasion at once. He looked almost majestic as he met
the oncoming horde of mutineers with an uplifted hand, as though he
challenged them to advance one step further, and demanded in a voice of
thunder what they required in his private apartments.

‘_Your life!_’ shrieked one of the mob, ‘and de lives ob all dese d--d
white trash. And we’ll hab them too! On wid you, darkies! Cut ’em down
like de dogs what dey are.’

‘I’ll shoot the first man who tries to pass me!’ shouted Sir Russell,
as he drew a revolver from his pocket; and then turning to his
father-in-law, he exclaimed quickly,--‘Mrs Courtney--Maraquita, get
them away, for God’s sake!’

Maraquita had already flown to her parents for protection, and was
clinging to her mother in an agony of tears.

‘Mamma! mamma! what will they do to us? Oh, we shall all be killed! Why
did I ever leave Beauregard!’

‘Hush! hush! my darling! it will be all right. There must be some
mistake,’ replied her mother, although she was shaking so violently
that she could hardly stand.

But if it was a mistake, it was a very terrible one, for the next
moment the sound of several shots, and a piercing scream, proved that
the rebels had already commenced their murderous work.

‘This way, Nita,’ said Mr Courtney hurriedly, pushing his wife and
daughter before him. ‘Keep close to the wall, and escape by the door
into the library. It is your best chance.’

But before they had gone many paces, elbowing their way frantically
through the crowd that pressed on them from every side, the dark faces
that had guarded the open windows perceived their means of exit, and
with a cry of fiendish delight, leapt into the room to prevent it.

‘We are lost!’ cried Mrs Courtney. ‘Oh, Mr Courtney, in Heaven’s name,
what are we to do?’

‘Stand before Quita. Conceal her at all risks, and I will help you,’
replied the father, as he ranged himself by the side of his trembling
wife, and in front of his daughter; and then he whispered, ‘Have no
fear, Nita; they can have no object in wounding _us_. Their malice is
against Sir Russell and our poor child. Spread your skirts over her,
for Heaven’s sake.’

Meanwhile the slaughter became general. The rebels rushed hither and
thither in search of Maraquita, wounding or killing every girl they
thought to be the bride, with, in most instances, the men who resented
the murder, until the ballroom reeked with blood, and the screams of
the unhappy victims were appalling. But the alarm had been given at
once, and in a few minutes the opposition shots of the military forces
were heard, and scores of the rebels bit the dust, whilst many more
were taken prisoners. Amongst the latter was a young and handsome
Spanish half-caste, whose dark eyes were on fire with the lust for
revenge, but who made no effort to free himself from his captors.

‘The danger is past! Thank God that you are both safe!’ exclaimed Mr
Courtney, as he turned to embrace his wife and daughter.

Sir Russell had been wounded in the wrist by a slash from one of his
own dinner knives; but the Fort physician had bound it up, and, now
that the first alarm was over, he was able to go in search of his bride.

‘Maraquita, my dearest!’ he exclaimed fervently, as he saw the pale
little figure which Mr Courtney was supporting, ‘this is a terrible
affair, but, thank God, the brutes have not injured you, nor your
parents! You must come away from here at once, my love. Take her, Mr
Courtney, I beg of you, to her own apartments. This is no sight for
her.’

Quita closed her eyes, and shuddered as her glance fell on the
prostrate corpses, both black and white, that lay on the ballroom
floor, and heard the moans of those to whom the surgeon was already
attending; and she was quite willing to go away with her parents, and
try and forget the terrible business in sleep.

‘Yes, yes,’ she murmured, clinging to her father; ‘take me away at
once, papa--I cannot bear it.’

But when she had advanced a few paces into the room, her eyes opened
again from sheer horror, and fell on a sight which paralysed her.
There, standing before her, though held back by the pinioning arms
of his captors, was Henri de Courcelles, whom she believed to be in
America, with such hatred and fury in his glance as she had never seen
before.

‘_Henri!_’ she shrieked involuntarily, before she could prevent herself.

‘So you have _escaped_!--curse you?’ he answered, glaring at her like
a fiend. ‘Then what am I doing here? I must be free, to live to avenge
myself on you.’ And without another word, and a sudden effort that
took the men who held him completely by surprise, Henri de Courcelles
wrenched himself away, and rushed to the open window, leapt into the
darkness and was gone.

‘He must have killed himself!’ exclaimed one of the soldiers, looking
out upon the night. ‘There is a fall here of about twenty feet.’

‘Order the guard round to take him prisoner!’ shouted Sir Russell. ‘The
wall beneath the window is sixteen feet high. They will take him like
a rat in a trap. And if not, tell them to shoot him like a dog.’

‘No, no!’ cried Maraquita wildly. ‘They _must_ not--they _shall_
not--he--he--’

But there she fainted, and fell in a heap at her husband’s feet.

‘He is the ringleader of the whole mutiny,--the greatest rascal of them
all! What can she know of him?’ demanded Sir Russell, with a frown.

‘Nothing; she never saw him before,’ replied Mrs Courtney boldly,
though she was shaking with fear lest Maraquita should betray herself.

‘But she called him “Henri.” I heard her,’ said the Governor.

‘He was a servant on Beauregard once, Sir Russell. I forgot that when
I said Maraquita had never seen him. But really this terrible business
has shaken me so that I don’t know what I’m saying. But my poor
darling must be carried to her room. She is not fit to walk. I hope
this shocking affair may not unsettle her reason.’

‘It seems as if it had done so already, when one hears her pleading for
the life of a murderer,’ said Sir Russell, as he assisted Mrs Courtney
to carry the unconscious girl to her own apartments. ‘And now, Mrs
Courtney, I will leave my wife in your charge. This is a very serious
matter, and may necessitate my sitting up all night. The rebellion is
quelled for the moment, but I must not rest until measures have been
taken to prevent its recurrence. My guests murdered before my very
eyes! It is incredible that such a thing should happen in Her Majesty’s
dominions. And we must crush the mutiny, if we string them all up to
the Fort gates. And this ringleader, this old servant (as you say)
of yours, shall be the first to suffer. I will give him lynch law as
soon as ever the dawn rises. I will teach him what the penalty is of
addressing the Governor’s wife as he has dared to do.’

And with this threat upon his lips, Sir Russell stalked gloomily away.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




CHAPTER V.


As soon as the Governor had disappeared, Mrs Courtney tried hard to get
her husband out of the room; but he was obstinately bent on remaining
until his daughter had recovered her consciousness, and so, when
Maraquita opened her eyes, both her father and mother were bending over
her.

‘Where am I?’ she exclaimed, as the world broke indistinctly upon her
again.

‘In your own room, my darling. Lie down, Quita. Don’t attempt to rise.
You are quite safe. No one can hurt you here.’

‘_Safe!_’ repeated the girl, in a bewildered tone. ‘Ah, I remember
now! The ballroom--the blood--those dreadful cries! Oh, mamma, mamma,’
she continued, clinging to her mother, ‘I shall never forget it! And
Julie Latreille too. I saw her murdered at my side. It is too, _too_
horrible!’

‘No, no, my dearest. You are mistaken. Julie is not dead. She was
wounded, and they have taken her to the hospital. But don’t think of it
any more to-night. Let me undress you, that you may try and get some
sleep.’

‘_Not think of it!_’ said Maraquita, with staring bloodshot eyes, as
she sat up on the couch in her white lace dress, all crumpled and
spattered with blood, ‘not think of it. Why, I shall never cease
to think of it. And there was something else too. What was it? Ah,
_Henri_! and he cursed me!’

‘Mr Courtney, I must request you to leave us!’ exclaimed his wife
hurriedly. ‘You see the excitable condition she is in, and I can do
nothing with her whilst you are hanging over her like this. The less
people she has with her the better! You must positively go, and leave
her to Jessica and me.’

‘Well, my dear, if you think it necessary, of course I will go; but you
will lose no time, I hope, in getting the poor child into bed.’

‘Do you suppose I don’t know what is best for her, Mr Courtney? I am
only waiting till you are gone, to undress her.’

‘And you will send me word how she goes on--I shall not retire till I
hear she has recovered her composure, and is in a fair way to sleep.’

‘I will send Jessica to you in half an hour. By that time, I hope we
shall both have somewhat overcome this terrible shock. I shall stay
with her all night, and you had better go and tell Sir Russell so.’

And Mrs Courtney, who had been carrying on this colloquy just inside
the bedroom door, opened it, and gently pushing her husband into the
passage, reclosed and locked it, with a sigh of relief.

‘Thank Heaven!’ she said to old Jessica, ‘we are safe! I trembled for
what she might say next.’

‘Allays dat cussed oberseer,’ observed the old negress, who stood by
Quita’s head.

The girl herself was still sitting up on the couch when her mother
returned to her, staring into vacancy, and repeating the word
‘_Henri_’ in a low voice.

‘Maraquita!’ said Mrs Courtney firmly, as she shook the girl to rouse
her to a sense of her position, ‘who are you talking to? There is no
one here! You are quite alone with Jessica and me. You are perfectly
safe. All the danger is over, and Government House is guarded by the
soldiery on every side. Come to bed now, like a good child, and try to
sleep.’

‘But _he_--where is _he_?’ asked Maraquita wildly. ‘Did they fire on
him? Is he hurt?’

‘Sir Russell, my darling? Well, nothing to signify! The brutes slashed
at him with their knives, and caught him on the wrist, but the doctor
says it will be all right again in a few days, and he will come and see
you by-and-by, dear.’

‘Not _him_! I don’t want _him_!’ returned Maraquita fretfully, ‘but
Henri--where is my Henri? He jumped out of the window, and Sir Russell
ordered them to kill him. Oh, tell me, in Heaven’s name, is he _dead_?’

Mrs Courtney did not know what to answer, but Jessica was ready with
the information.

‘No, Missy Quita, he not dead. Governor’s Sambo tell me all de news
just now. De guard go after him, and take him prisoner, and shut him up
in Fort cell, where he can’t come out. And so my missy quite safe, and
can go to sleep comfortable.’

‘There, my darling, you hear what old Jessica says,’ interposed Mrs
Courtney soothingly. ‘They have got him in prison. It was like his
insolence to speak to you as he did; but you have given him so
much encouragement, that the creature is beside himself. But he has
overleapt the mark this time, and will never trouble you again.’

‘Will they--_kill_ him?’ said Quita, with a shiver.

‘I hope so, I’m sure. It would be the best thing for all of us, and
drive this romantic nonsense out of your head, Maraquita. Why, what
is this, my dear? You are surely not weeping for the fate of this
_murderer_, who has instigated his fellows to kill half your friends,
and would have killed you, and your husband, and your parents, if he
had had the opportunity? I shall begin to think you have very little
love for your father or myself, if you can prefer _his_ life to ours.’

‘Oh, no, mamma, it isn’t that! I am very thankful to think you are all
safe. Only--only--Henri, who used to love me so--_to die_! Oh, it must
not be! It is _too_ shocking!’

‘If a man sets all the laws of his country at naught, he must pay the
penalty of his wrong-doing,’ said Mrs Courtney sententiously.

‘Yes; but there is some excuse for him, mamma. Think of his grief for
my loss, his jealousy, his revenge. It was _I_ who drove him to it. I
should have been true to him at all hazards, and then this terrible
business would never have happened. Oh, mamma, he must not die, or his
spirit will haunt me all my days,’ said Quita, trembling, with closed
eyes.

‘Maraquita, you are exaggerating the blame that is due to you in
this matter. In the first place, we don’t know that the mutiny was
organised on your account at all. The negroes are disaffected, I am
sorry to say, all over San Diego. And if it were, it is an outrage
which should call forth nothing but resentment on your part. You have
been foolishly weak in former times with regard to this man; but he
must have been insane if he ever believed you would marry him. You
followed your parents’ wishes in accepting Sir Russell Johnstone, and
have nothing to reproach yourself with in regard to it. Now, leave the
rest of the matter to him, and don’t worry your head about it. You may
depend upon it, the Governor will do what is just and right, and such a
dreadful affair will never be allowed to happen again.’

‘But Henri--what will they do to Henri?’ moaned Maraquita.

‘Oh, this is unbearable! You are past all reason!’ cried Mrs Courtney
impatiently. ‘Here, Jessica, help me off with her ladyship’s things,
and let us put her into bed.’

She pulled off the various garments of cambric and lace, almost
roughly, in her indignation at her daughter’s weakness; and having seen
Maraquita laid in bed, she left her in her old nurse’s care, whilst she
went to ask the doctor for a sleeping draught.

Jessica had been installed at Government House as she had desired,
and her wages had been raised to nearly double their former sum. Lady
Russell had felt uncomfortable at first to remember that there was some
one beside her who knew all about her maiden life, but in her present
extremity she turned to her old servant with a feeling of security
that she need hide nothing from her. As her mother left the room, she
moved on her pillow with a heavy sigh, and laid her little white hand
in Jessica’s dark palm. The negro nature, if vindictive and revengeful
under injustice, is also very affectionate and easily conciliated. This
caressing action on Maraquita’s part touched her old nurse’s heart. It
was some time since her little missy had shown any token of love for
her, and it won her over on the instant to her side.

‘Jessica,’ sighed Quita, ‘I’m very unhappy.’

‘I know you is, poor missy,’ responded the negress. ‘You’se feelin’
berry bad to-night. And, sakes! it’s no wonder. But it’ll be all right
bime-by, missy.’

‘I loved him, Jessica, very much,’ continued her young mistress. ‘You
knew all about us, and how I used to slip out when everybody was
asleep, and go to meet him in the Oleander thicket.’

‘Ah, yes, missy, Jessica knew. Many’s the night I’ve sot up, and
watched and waited for you to come back; but it was generally daylight
before you came. Ah! you used to love de oberseer in dose days, Missy
Quita, pretty strong.’

‘And I love him still, Nurse! I can’t help it!’ cried Quita feverishly,
as she sat up in bed, with her dark hair floating about her, and stared
at the negress with dilated eyes. ‘I have loved him all along; and if
they kill him, they will kill me too.’

‘No, no, missy; Governor not killing Massa Courcelles. Only keep him in
prison little while, and den let him go free. Lie down, missy, and go
sleep. All right bime-by.’

‘But I want to see him!’ exclaimed Quita excitedly. ‘I want to
hear everything they are going to do to him; and I want to ask his
forgiveness for having married Sir Russell. I _must_ see him, Jessica.
I shall go mad if I don’t.’

‘Den missy _shall_ see him,’ replied the servant soothingly.

‘Will you manage it for me, Jessica?’ asked the girl eagerly; ‘and
without saying a word to mamma. Will you find out where Monsieur
de Courcelles has been taken, and if I can possibly get permission
to visit him, and if there will be a trial, and _when_? Find out
everything, Jessica, and let me know to-morrow morning, and you shall
have the pair of gold bangles papa gave me last birthday. Stay! you
shall have them now,’ continued Quita, as she sprang from her bed and
took the ornaments off her dressing-table. ‘Put them on your wrists,
Jessica, and remember you are to find out _everything_!’

‘Missy berry good to ole Jessica,’ said the negress, as she clasped the
glittering circlets on her dusky arms, and feasted her eyes on them;
‘and I’ll know de whole truth by to-morrow morning. Only missy must lie
down again now, and keep all dis berry dark, or de ole missus nebber
let me tell nuffin.’

The entrance of Mrs Courtney at this juncture with the opiate draught
put a stop to further confidence, and Maraquita, having obediently
swallowed it, soon lost sight of her troubles in sleep. Mrs Courtney
dismissed Jessica for the night, and lay down by her daughter’s side;
but it was long before she followed her example. She trembled not only
for the fright she had gone through, but for the influence she feared
it might have upon Maraquita’s future.

‘Poor child!’ she thought, as she contemplated the lovely face, now
tranquil in slumber on the pillow beside her, ‘she is passing through
a terrible ordeal. I only trust it may not cause a rupture between
Sir Russell and herself. I am certain he suspects something. I did
not half like the look with which he received my explanation of the
matter. It was the most unfortunate thing in the world that that fellow
should have been planted right in Maraquita’s way as she left the room.
Two minutes sooner or later, and she would not have seen him. Now, I
hardly dare to think how it may end. If he is condemned to death, she
certainly must not hear of it: I must invent some reason to Sir Russell
for taking her away. Her emotional nature would break down altogether
under such a strain. What an awful thing it is that she should ever
have fallen into his clutches!’ And Mrs Courtney sighed over it until
she fell asleep.

As soon as the morning broke, Maraquita having passed a good night,
and everything being tranquil at Government House, she accompanied
her husband to Beauregard for the day, for all the planters were
entertaining grave fears for the continued submission of their coolie
hands, and it was not thought advisable to leave the estates for long
at a time without a ruling eye. Her departure was the signal for a
long conference between Lady Russell and old Jessica. The negress had
ascertained that it was possible for the friends of the prisoners to
obtain access to them through a written order from the Governor, but
that the privilege would only be extended in the case of relations.

‘That renders it impossible!’ exclaimed Quita despairingly, for she was
not a woman with the wit to overcome difficulties.

‘How so, missy?’ demanded Jessica. ‘Why impossible? _I_ can get order
quick enough.’

‘_You_, Jessica? But Sir Russell knows you. Besides, he would never
believe you were related to Monsieur de Courcelles.’

‘Oh, missy, I not going work dat way at all. Course he not gib it to
_me_; but if missy gib me five-dollar note, dat half-caste woman Rosita
will go swaer she’s de oberseer’s aunt, or his moder, and want speak to
him with her daughter--dat’s _you_, missy. Den you put veil over your
face, and big cloak, and go with Rosita and see de oberseer.’

‘But Rosita may tell,’ said Maraquita, shrinking from the idea.

Jessica shrugged her shoulders contemptuously.

‘Rosita not tell--what good her telling? but if missy ’fraid, gib her
_ten_ dollars ’stead of five! den I swear she not tell.’

‘And what else did you hear, Jessica?’

‘Sambo say de Governor would hab hung all de mutineers dis morning,
same like dogs, only de Colonel ob de forces tell him dat berry bad
plan, and make big fight, and he better have proper martials. So dat am
fixed for to-morrow, and den dey will be hung at sunset fire--dat what
Sambo says.’

‘And--and--what more, Jessica?’

‘Dat’s pretty well all, missy, only de corpses hab been cleared away,
and will be buried dis evening. And Missy Latreille berry bad in
hospital, and both de Missy Burns dead, and dere fader hab sworn if
Governor don’t hang de rebels, _he_ will.’

‘Oh, it is terrible!’ sighed Maraquita. ‘I shall never have the courage
to visit the cells. I am so afraid of being found out.’

‘Den missy better not go.’

‘But, Jessica, he will die without my seeing him, and I shall never
forgive myself. I don’t know _what_ to do.’

She vacillated, like the weak creature she was, between two opinions,
until it was almost too late for Jessica to arrange the matter for
her; but finally, under the dread of her mother’s speedy return
from Beauregard, she made up her mind to visit De Courcelles, and
Jessica was despatched with a ten dollar note to make the necessary
preparations.

When the afternoon sun was somewhat on the wane, and Sir Russell
Johnstone, having passed a sleepless night, and believing his wife to
be safe in her own apartments, had thrown himself down on a couch to
obtain some rest, Maraquita, effectually disguised with veil and cloak,
stole down the back staircase of Government House, in company with the
negress, and sought the abode of the half-caste woman Rosita, who had
been fully instructed in the part she had to play. Leaving Jessica
behind them, the two women immediately set out for the Fort, where they
were received by the officer commanding the prison guard. He threw one
glance on the Governor’s signature, and gave them immediate admittance.

‘Friends to see the prisoner No. 14, by the Governor’s permission,’
he shouted to the warder, who, unlocking a heavy iron-clamped door,
ushered the visitors into a stone passage, from which there seemed
to be no possibility of egress. Maraquita’s feeble courage was fast
failing her, and had it not been for the cool nerve and determination
of Rosita, she would have probably betrayed herself. But the half-caste
woman was quite equal to the emergency.

‘Ah, sir, tell me!’ she exclaimed, as soon as they were alone with the
warder, ‘will they really kill my poor nephew? Is there no chance of a
reprieve?’

‘Don’t think so, ma’am,’ was the official’s answer; ‘but no one can
tell for certain till after the court-martial to-morrow. Your nephew,
you say?’

‘Yes! and this poor girl, my daughter, was to have been married to him
before long. It’s a terrible trial for her! I don’t know how she’ll
stand the interview.’

‘She’d better not see him. ’Twon’t do no good,’ said the warder
roughly; ‘though she’s had a lucky escape from such a rascal.’

‘But I’ve come on her account alone. She can’t rest till she’s seen her
cousin. Now, Clara, my dear, you’d better go in by yourself first, and
then when the time’s up, the warder will let you know.’

All this had been pre-arranged between them, but Rosita played her
part much better than Maraquita had the power to do. Her large eyes
glanced up almost appealingly when No. 14 was reached, and the gaoler’s
keys rattled in the door, and had not her companion pushed her into
the cell, she would have turned round and run away. But it was done,
and her retreat was cut off. She stood in the same room as Henri de
Courcelles.

‘Friends for No. 14,’ sung out the warder, as he opened the door; ‘only
fifteen minutes allowed, so make the most of them.’

Henri de Courcelles looked up in amazement as the order sounded on his
ear. He knew of no friends to visit him in his trouble. He was sitting
in a small whitewashed room, which contained a pallet, a table, and a
couple of wooden chairs. His day’s rations were before him, but he had
not touched them. He was still in his usual attire, for it had not been
thought worth while to put him into prison clothes, and notwithstanding
an unshorn face and unkempt hair, he was looking as handsome--perhaps
handsomer, than ever, for disorder suited his gipsy style of beauty. As
he caught sight of Maraquita’s shrouded and veiled figure, he started a
little, but he never supposed for a moment it could be she, until she
lifted her veil, and gazed at him with scared and mournful eyes.

‘Henri,’ she exclaimed, in a piteous voice, ‘I have come to see you!’

In her vanity, she had believed she had only to stand before him, and
look miserable, to bring him to her feet again. She had forgotten
the deadly insult she had put upon the man by marrying Sir Russell
Johnstone; the lies with which she had attempted to deceive him to the
very end; the treachery by which she and her mother had procured his
dismissal from Beauregard. She trusted, like many another of her sex,
too much to the power of her beauty to sway the minds of men. But mere
loveliness cannot supply the place of truth and fidelity, and she had
become nothing in the eyes of her former lover but a whited sepulchre,
and was the last person upon earth he desired to see. He sprang to his
feet as her voice fell on his ear, and looked at her with ineffable
scorn.

‘_You_ have come to see _me_, and why?’

‘Oh, Henri, how can you ask? Do you think I am made of stone, that
I have entirely forgotten? When I saw you amongst those terrible
mutineers last night, it nearly killed me.’

‘It’s a pity it didn’t _quite_ kill you,’ he replied, ‘for women
such as you are not fit to live! Do you know _why_ I was there,--why
I headed their numbers, and incited them on to rebellion and
slaughter?--_in order that I might kill you_,--in order that you
should not live to deceive other men, and drive them to desperation, as
you have driven me.’

‘Oh, Henri, Henri,’ she exclaimed, panting with fear, ‘you are raving!
You would not injure _me_! Think, Henri, think of the hours I have lain
with my head on your breast and my lips to yours; think how you have
loved me,--of the tie between us, and I am sure that you would die
sooner than hurt a hair of my head.’

‘_Think of it!_’ he repeated, with a bitter laugh; ‘haven’t I thought
of it until it has turned my brain, and made me lust for your blood? To
think of all your professions of love, and how they have ended, is to
hate and despise you. _The tie between us!_ It had better die, and rot
where it lies, than grow up with one tithe of its mother’s falsehood.
No, Maraquita, the time for my belief in you is past. If you came here
to hear compliments, you have wasted your time, for I have nothing but
loathing and hatred to give you.’

‘Oh, Henri!’ she said, shivering, with her face hidden in her hands,
‘don’t speak to me like that! I will go away, and never attempt to
cross your path again, only promise me that neither you nor your
friends shall hurt me. It was not my fault, indeed it wasn’t. I married
at the command of my parents, and I have been so miserable since,
Henri. I have dreamt of you almost every night, and longed to see you
again. Oh, don’t look at me like that! Kiss me, and say you forgive me,
or I shall never know another happy moment.’

‘_Kiss you! Forgive you!_’ he repeated witheringly. ‘Never! Neither in
this life, nor the life to come. You escaped me last night, Maraquita,
but you shall not escape me for ever. I have sworn to have your life,
in return for all that was precious to me in mine, and I will have it
yet. I only bide my time.’

Then her fancied passion died out beneath his threats and blazing eyes,
and she turned and taunted him with his inability to carry out his
intentions.

‘_You will have my life?_ What are you thinking of, to talk in so
absurd a manner? Do you forget where you are? Are you aware that you
will be brought up for trial to-morrow morning, and that if I give the
Governor one hint of this conversation, sunset will see your execution.
How will you be able to carry out your threats against me then?’

‘And so _this_ is the woman who will never know another happy moment
without my forgiveness!’ he returned sarcastically,--‘who can calmly
contemplate my possible execution as the means of her own deliverance,
and hint that she may expedite it! I thank you, madam, for showing me
your true nature so openly, else I might have been weak enough, in
these last moments, to believe you had really preserved some little
feeling for the man who should have been your husband. But I have a
word to say to you in return. I shall _not_ die to-morrow--I shall live
until I have the weapon in my hand wherewith to strike you down. And
then I shall not care how soon I go too. But in hell, Maraquita--even
in hell--I shall be beside you, to haunt you with the treachery which
sent us both there?’

‘Oh, have pity!--have pity on me!’ she cried, upon her knees.

‘I have no pity,’ he answered, in a low voice; ‘and I shall have none.
You have left me only one feeling with regard to you,--determination
to carry out my revenge. When I think of it, I feel as if I had the
strength of ten thousand devils in me, and could tear these walls
asunder with my bare hands, and set myself free, only to be revenged on
you.’

‘Time’s up,’ called the warder from outside the door.

‘Henri, will you not speak one word to me?--give me one look before I
go?’ wailed Maraquita.

He advanced upon her with the eyes of a demoniac.

‘Speak to you? Look at you?’ he exclaimed. ‘What have I to say to you
that I have not already said? Leave this cell, as you value a few more
days’ existence, or I shall tear you to pieces where you stand.’

And at the sight of his uplifted hands and glowering eyes, Maraquita
gave a low cry, and hastened through the open doorway.

‘Not a very pleasant interview, I guess,’ observed the warder, as Quita
walked down the stone passage again, sobbing as if her heart would
break, and clinging to Rosita’s arm. ‘I told you you’d better not see
him. He’s more mad than sane, and I was half afraid he might do you
some harm.’

‘Is there,’ demanded Maraquita, as soon as she could command her voice
sufficiently to speak, ‘is there any chance of his being able to escape
from prison?’

The gaoler laughed.

‘_Escape?_ Well, no. I wouldn’t set my heart on that, if I was you,
miss. ’Twould take a better man than he--though he’s a powerful fellow,
too--to break through these walls, when he’s once inside them. He’ll
never leave them again, unless it’s by the Governor’s orders--you may
take your oath of that.’

At Rosita’s house, Jessica received her weeping young mistress again,
and conducted her safely back to her own apartments; but it was long
before Maraquita could make up her mind whether she should speak to Sir
Russell on the subject of De Courcelles or not. Some suspicion might
attach to her doing so, though she trusted to her native cunning to
make a good story of it. But if she said nothing, and the court took
a lenient view of the part he had maintained in the mutiny, Henri de
Courcelles might be set at large again, and accomplish his wicked
designs upon her life. The love of living, so strong in every human
breast, finally outweighed all other considerations, and Maraquita,
after a night of painful deliberation, asked Jessica to summon Sir
Russell to her side.

The Governor, unused to such amenities on the part of his bride, came
with alacrity, and full of tender solicitude for the apprehension and
terror she had passed through.

‘You must try and dismiss it all from your mind now, my darling, for
the danger is really past. We try the mutineers to-day, and I have very
little doubt of the sentence which will be passed upon them.’

‘There is _one_--the man who spoke to me the other night,’ said
Maraquita, trembling; ‘what will they do to him?’

The Governor frowned.

‘You mean the ringleader? I cannot tell; but if _I_ had to decide, I
should say that hanging was too good for him. Why do you ask, my dear?
Surely you are not interested in his fate.’

‘Oh, no, no! I am afraid of him,’ replied his wife. ‘He was papa’s
overseer once, and he--he--presumed to fall in love with me; and
because--because I married you instead, he has sworn to kill me; and he
_will_, Sir Russell, I am _sure_ he will, if they let him go free!’

‘He shall _not_ go free!’ exclaimed her husband indignantly. ‘Such
outrages from the half-caste population against European settlers are
not to be tolerated. I am glad you have told me this, Quita; it will go
greatly against him, if the court should be disposed to show him any
favour.’

‘Oh, _do_ send him away--get rid of him at all risks. He frightens me.
I shall die of fear,’ she whispered, clinging to Sir Russell’s arm.

‘He shall never frighten you again, my darling. I will take care of
that,’ replied the Governor decidedly, as he pressed her to him. But
as he was embracing her, Jessica entered the bedroom, with an official
paper.

‘Orderly from Fort bring for Governor,’ she ejaculated.

Sir Russell glanced over its contents.

‘Good heavens!’ he cried, ‘he has escaped us!’

‘Who--_who_?’ demanded Maraquita.

‘The very man you were speaking of--Henri de Courcelles. He has broken,
by some miraculous means, out of his prison cell, and is missing. I
must order out the mounted police at once to follow him. Don’t be
afraid, Maraquita. It is impossible that he can escape the vigilance of
the law, in such a little place as San Diego.’

‘He will--he _will_!’ exclaimed the unhappy girl, as her husband rushed
out of the room. ‘He will live, as he said, to murder me.’ And with
that she fell back unconscious on her pillows.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




CHAPTER VI.


The account of the attempted massacre at Government House reached
Lizzie through Mr Courtney; but he did not tell her that Henri de
Courcelles had been arrested as one of the mutineers. He knew that she
had regarded his late overseer with affection, and he wanted to spare
her the pain of the suspense of learning his fate. It would be time
enough, he thought, for her to mourn when her friend had been tried and
condemned. But his kind consideration was wasted, for the news came to
her by means of the yellow girl, Rosa, who burst into her presence on
the day of De Courcelles’ escape from the Fort prison, brim full of the
intelligence.

‘Oh, Missy Liz! dar’s grand news come from Government House. De Fort
prison doors is bust open, and dey’s all gone--ebbery one of dem
mutineers, and Massa Courcelles, he gone wid them.’

‘_Monsieur de Courcelles!_’ exclaimed Lizzie, hardly believing her
ears. ‘What are you talking of, Rosa?’

‘Jes’ God’s truth, Missy Liz. Massa Courcelles de ringleader ob all de
mutiny--dat’s what William Hall, dat hab jes’ come from de Fort, say;
and dey take him prisoner ob Tuesday night, and put him in cell, and
dis morning he was to be tried by ’martial; but he’s clean gone, and de
mounted police am scouring San Diego for him.’

‘De Courcelles amongst the rebels!’ repeated Lizzie. ‘_This_, then, is
what he meant by his revenge. Oh, that it had been in my power to save
him from falling so low!’

‘But dat ain’t all, Missy Liz; dere’s more to come. William Hall say de
police catch sight of Massa Courcelles ober de gully, close by Shanty
Hill, and he ’scape them again, and run straight for de Alligator
Swamp.’

‘He did not _enter_ it?’ cried Lizzie, turning pale.

‘Oh, didn’t he, though? De police gallop after him, and he run same
like deer, and jump de fences, and go squash right in de swamp, where
de hosses couldn’t follow him, ’cause of de morass. And William say
when Massa Courcelles get on edge of swamp, he turn and wave his hand,
and hollo, and dive in bushes. And den de police see no more of him;
but dey is waiting dere now, horses and all, till he come out again.
But Massa Courcelles nebber come out again, Missy Liz. Dat what all de
niggers say; alligator and swamp take him pretty quick, and got him
now, maybe, de bad fellow!’

Lizzie did not answer her chattering handmaid, except by asking,--

‘What time is it, Rosa?’

‘Jes’ gone tree, Missy Liz.’

‘And when did this happen? I mean when did the police lose sight of
Monsieur de Courcelles in the Alligator Swamp?’

‘Eleben o’clock, missy.’

‘_Four hours_,’ said Lizzie to herself. ‘God help him! What can I do?’

She began turning over the contents of a medicine-chest as she thought
thus, and pouring the liquid from one bottle into the other, in an
apparently mechanical manner.

‘Rosa!’ she said suddenly, turning to her open-eyed attendant, ‘I am
going out presently, and I may be detained longer than I anticipate.
Take great care of baby whilst I am away, and put her to sleep in your
own room to-night. Do you understand me?’

‘Yes, yes, Missy Liz.’

She watched her mistress array herself in her walking things, and take
down a broad sombrero hat, and a long cloak, which had belonged to
her father, from the cupboard where they hung, and place brandy and a
bottle of quinine, and strong smelling-salts and camphor in the basket
she hung upon her arm. These proceedings only excited Rosa’s curiosity;
but when Lizzie went on to load a revolver and place it in her belt,
and take a huge staff in her hand, the yellow girl could contain
herself no longer, but cried out,--

‘Oh, Missy Liz, Missy Liz! what you going to do with all dem things?’

‘Dare I trust you?’ said Lizzie, turning her grave, pale face towards
her. ‘Will you be faithful and keep my secret if I tell you what I am
going to do?’

‘Missy Liz, _I will_!’ replied Rosa solemnly. ‘I knows I’se berry bad
gal to you once. I said drefful things what I didn’t mean; but I’se
only ignorant yellow gal, Mis Liz, and I didn’t think how bad I was.
But Massa Norris, he make me promise when he go ’way that I’d be good
faithful servant to you, and take great care of you, and he’d bring me
lubly dress from England next time he come; and I would do it, Missy
Liz, without de dress, and only because I love you for all you done for
me.’

‘I believe you, and I will confide in you, for I must have a friend
to help me. Rosa, I am going to the Alligator Swamp to try and find
Monsieur de Courcelles.’

‘_De Alligator Swamp!_ Oh, Missy Liz! you nebber going there? You
can’t walk dere for de swamp, nor de thorn bushes; and de green slime
hab a smell what chokes you. Missy,’ continued Rosa earnestly, ‘even a
nigger can’t stay dere. You will lose your way d’reckly--dere’s no path
to guide you; and de alligators is awful. Dey kill you d’reckly dey see
you. Oh, Missy Liz, for God’s sake, don’t try to go!’

‘Listen to me, dear Rosa. _I must go!_ It is of no use to try and stop
me. Monsieur de Courcelles has been very wicked, no doubt--I don’t
defend his conduct--but _once_ I loved him Rosa, and a woman can never
quite forget the man she has loved.’

‘No, dat’s true, missy. Juan want me to marry him, but I keep thinking
too much ob that rascal sailor boy what was de fader of my poor leetel
Carlo--Dat’s truth,’ answered Rosa, shaking her black curls.

‘Well then, perhaps you can understand a little what I feel now, Rosa.
Monsieur de Courcelles is in fearful danger. I know his spirit. He will
never come out of the swamp to be taken prisoner again. He will faint
from the fumes of the fearful miasma first, and sink for ever in the
morass, or he will cast himself before the first cayman in his path. I
may not find him, or I may be too late to give him any assistance, but
I must try. I have the proper medicines here to counteract the effect
of the swamp, for him and myself; and if I find him, I think with this
disguise I may get him safely out again without attracting the notice
of the police. I shall not go by Shanty Hill, Rosa. I shall make my way
round by the Miners’ Gulch. There is an entrance there at the back of
the Sans Souci plantation.’

‘And if you find him, Missy Liz--what den?’ inquired the yellow girl.

‘Ah, Rosa! that is where I shall want your assistance and your
fidelity,’ replied her mistress. ‘If I find him, I must bring him
_here_, and hide him from the police until I can get him safely away
from the island.’

‘Dat berry dangerous work, Missy Liz.’

‘I know it, but how can I do otherwise? Could I let the man whom I once
believed would be my husband, perish in the Alligator Swamp, without an
attempt to rescue him; or deliver him up to die a murderer’s death upon
the gallows, as long as I can keep him from it? Oh, Rosa, Rosa!’ cried
Lizzie, weeping, ‘it is the same with all of us, white and black alike.
Love--although a love that is dead and over--sanctifies everything, and
claims a certain duty even for its ashes.’

The yellow girl did not understand her mistress’s words, but her tears
appealed to her heart, and she cried with her.

‘Yes, Missy Liz, I understand. Dat’s jes’ same like me and de sailor
fellow. But you must take great care of yourself, Missy Liz. You
must be berry ’ticular where you step, and how you go, and keep a
sharp look-out for de alligators. Dey berry cowardly, Missy Liz. Dey
frightened of noise, and dey can’t run no ways; so if you don’t tread
right on dem, you’se all right.’

‘Yes, yes, Rosa! I know that, and I will take every possible caution,’
replied Lizzie. And then she kissed the baby, and kissed Rosa, and
walked bravely off, as though she had been going on her daily rounds.

The Alligator Swamp was situated in a deep gorge or valley between
two high hills, and was simply a stagnant bog, thickly clothed with
poisonous vegetation--indeed no healthy trees or bushes could have
existed in such an atmosphere. The fatal upas tree spread its thick
branches over the morass, sheltering deadly fungi of orange, and
red, and white. Thorny bushes were matted and interlaced about it,
so that had there been a solid foundation to the Alligator’s Swamp,
it would have been impossible to force one’s way through, or find a
path whereon to tread. The only resting-place for one’s feet consisted
of the logs and trunks of decayed trees, which had dropped, rolling
into the slime, and choked it up. But they were treacherous paths, as
may be well imagined, and it was difficult, in the semi-darkness, to
distinguish them from the caymen--the largest and fiercest breed of
alligators--from which the swamp derived its name. These creatures
lay on the top of the slimy deposit, just like rugged brown logs in
appearance, until a sound or a touch caused the apparently inert
mass to move, and a ferocious head, with two diamond bright eyes,
and an enormous mouth, with cruel fangs, rose up suddenly and snapt
its jaws over its unsuspecting prey. For there was no real daylight
in the Alligator Swamp. The branches of the trees were so thickly
interlaced overhead that the sun had no chance to penetrate them and
cleanse the Augean Stable with his health-giving rays; and so the
decaying vegetation and the slime had festered on together for years
past, and the caymen had bred and flourished there, until the boldest
negro of them all considered it certain death to breathe the air which
they inhaled. If the foolhardy creature who attempted to traverse the
swamp were not immersed in the stinking mud, or seized by the hungry
alligators, he was bound after a little while to sink down, giddy
and intoxicated from inhaling the various poisons around him, and so
fall a prey to either one or the other. Lizzie Fellows was perfectly
conscious of the terrible risk she ran,--more so, perhaps, than most
women would have been, for her father had fully explained the dangers
of the swamp to her, and warned her off its precincts. She knew that
the reason runaway negroes and escaped prisoners took refuge in the
Alligator Swamp was not because they sought safety in it, but because
they preferred death by its horrors to giving themselves up to the law.
They knew they went to their grave when they entered it, but they knew
also that the police would refuse to follow them there, and that they
would be left to die alone and unmolested. She had a long walk to
take before she reached it. She was anxious to meet no one who should
inquire her errand, or try to prevent it, and so she took a circuitous
route to Sans Souci, and crept round the back of the plantation until
she came to a clump of dense underwood, through which she knew a
path led to the fatal spot. She tied a handkerchief steeped in some
disinfectant across her mouth and nostrils as she entered it, and then,
with a short prayer to God for protection and success, went bravely
on. She carried a knife in her hand, with which she sliced the bark of
the trees as she walked along, for she was afraid of losing her way
altogether, and perhaps never finding the sunlight again; but for the
first few minutes the Alligator Swamp seemed to be a harmless place
enough. The grass beneath her feet was bright and green, from the
humidity of the atmosphere and the shade of the trees, but the first
indication of danger was given by her foot suddenly sinking in wet
soil up to her ankle. She drew it back quickly, and commenced to walk
more slowly, and tapping the ground before her with the stout stick
she held in her hand, before she ventured to tread on it. Her heart
beat fast at times as a rustle in the bushes betrayed the presence of
a rattlesnake--about the only living thing that shared the swamp with
the alligators--or a splash in the surrounding vegetation proved she
was approaching the haunts of the caymen. Still she went on, picking
her way over the morass, or skirting it by means of the rotten trunks
that lay across it, and swayed and rolled as she mounted them, as if
they would give way beneath her weight, and let her fall into the
slimy pool they floated on. Soon she began to feel the effects of
the mephitic vapours with which the place abounded, and had recourse
to her smelling-salts, to prevent her becoming giddy. All this time
Lizzie had kept up a continual note from a whistle she had hung about
her neck, and at intervals she had called upon Henri de Courcelles by
name. As she advanced to the centre of the swamp the daylight seemed
to be entirely excluded, and she lighted a lantern which was tied at
her girdle. With her staff in one hand and her revolver in the other
she now began to pick her way step by step, her heart sinking with
fear and disappointment as she went. For not a sound came in answer
to her whistle or her call. The profoundest silence reigned in the
Alligator Swamp. The stench of the decaying vegetation was more and
more apparent, and the only light by which she walked was the feeble
glimmer thrown in advance from the little lantern at her waist. It
was a situation to appal the bravest spirit. Once she stepped forward
almost confidently, and placed her foot on a broad bridge, formed, as
she believed, of the corrugated trunk of a fallen tree, but as she
touched it it sank beneath the slime, and rose again immediately with
two fierce twinkling eyes and an open jaw full of pointed teeth, to
confront her.

Lizzie flew backward with a scream of terror, and, clinging with one
arm to the branch of a tree, discharged her revolver full in the
reptile’s face. The bullet was probably battered against its impervious
hide, but the shot had the desired effect of frightening the alligator
back into its home of slime. It had another, and more unforeseen
effect. It reached the senses of an almost unconscious man, who had
slidden into a sitting position beside some bushes, but a few yards
off, and roused him from his sleep of death. The sound of the shot
conveyed but one idea to his mind, however,--that his pursuers had
penetrated his asylum, and were close at hand to capture him; and with
the intention to defy them to the last, he staggered to his feet, and
set his back against a tree. The tall figure clothed in white became
apparent in the surrounding twilight, and when Lizzie raised her eyes
from the spot where the cayman had disappeared from view, it was to fix
them on the form of Henri de Courcelles. She uttered a cry of pleasure
at the discovery, which sounded to him like a note of victory.

‘Stand off!’ he exclaimed loudly; ‘shoot me like a man if you will, but
don’t attempt to touch me with your accursed fingers, or I will dive
into the swamp and escape you.’

He was about to put his suicidal threat into execution, when Lizzie
stepped quickly across the yielding earth which separated them, and
stood by his side.

‘Henri!’ she ejaculated, as she clutched at his clothes with her hand
and held him back.

He turned and stared at her.

‘_Lizzie!_’ was all he could say.

‘Yes, it is I,’ she answered simply.

At that his senses appeared to return to him. His astonishment at
seeing her was so great, that he pulled himself together, as a drunken
man will sometimes do, under special circumstances.

‘Lizzie--_here!_’ he repeated. ‘But what made you come to such a place?
Do you know that you are courting certain death, and that every moment
may be your last? Go back at once! Don’t stay here another instant! You
were mad to think of such a thing.’

‘I _am_ going back, and at once,’ she answered quickly, ‘but you must
come with me.’

‘I cannot. The police are waiting for me outside, and I will die here
sooner than deliver myself into their hands.’

She disengaged the wallet of medicines which she had carried on her
back, and, pouring out a mixture of brandy and quinine, held it to his
lips.

‘Drink this, Henri, and listen to me. I have come here expressly to
find you and save you, and you must trust yourself to me. The police
shall not take you. They are waiting by Shanty Hill, and I know a
secret outlet by Miners’ Gulch. But we must leave this pestiferous
atmosphere at once, or it may be fatal to both of us.’

He clung to her like a child to its mother.

‘You can save me!’ he exclaimed. ‘Oh, my good angel! why did I ever
desert you?’

‘Hush! Don’t speak of that now. Think of nothing excepting the best
means to get out of this dreadful place. Drink some more brandy, and
inhale this ammonia. That is right. Pull yourself together, and follow
me closely. I will go first, and lead the way.’

She pulled him forward as she spoke, and mechanically he followed her.
Step by step they went, very slowly and cautiously at first, and
then faster, as the dusky twilight spread itself out, and the gleams
of sunshine penetrated at intervals the dense foliage, and turned
its neutral tints into living green. On they went, she in front with
her staff and revolver, and he, behind, only half comprehending what
had occurred to him, until they reached the thicket which abutted on
the Sans Souci plantation, where he sank down upon the grass, with
a low moan of exhaustion. Lizzie was busy with her wallet directly.
She had anticipated that as soon as the excitement was over he would
succumb to the strain he had passed through--for the Spanish Creoles
have not strong constitutions, and had provided the necessary remedies
against it. It was some little time before Henri de Courcelles fairly
understood what had happened to him, and then his gratitude knew no
bounds.

‘Am I really safe, and with you?’ he murmured. ‘What have I done to
deserve such goodness at your hands?’

‘You are clear of that terrible swamp, Henri; but you are not by
any means safe yet; and if you would be, you must follow out my
instructions to the letter. See here! I have an old cloak and
_sombrero_ which belonged to my poor father. I left them under this
tree when I entered the swamp. We will wait here quietly until it is
a little darker, and then you must put them on, and come home to the
bungalow with me, and I will conceal you there until you can find some
means of leaving San Diego.’

‘But how will that be possible, Lizzie? The bills must be out by this
time, putting a price upon my head, and every nigger in the island
will be turned into an amateur detective, in the hope of being able to
claim the reward.’

‘Oh, don’t let us think of that now!’ replied Lizzie wearily. ‘The
chief thing at present is to restore your vitality. It is a blessing
you are still alive, Henri. Eat and drink what I have brought for you,
and thank God you can do it in safety. Nothing will harm you here.’

‘And you actually came in search of me, alone and unprotected?’ he
said, looking at her with the deepest admiration. ‘You braved the
dangers of this awful place,--ran the risk of a terrible death, and all
for me--_for me_, who have treated you so badly! Oh, Lizzie,’ continued
Henri de Courcelles, seizing her hand, ‘if the devotion of the life you
have rescued can atone to you, it will.’

But she drew her hand away hastily--almost with repugnance--from his
clasp. Was it not that of a would-be murderer?

‘Henri,’ she replied quietly, though her voice shook, ‘you must never
speak to me again like that. I _have_ done what you say, and I thank
Heaven, who has crowned my efforts with success; but it was done for
the sake of the Past, not of the Present; and nothing in the Future,
except the knowledge that your life has been saved for better things,
can ever repay me. I have been shocked beyond measure at what I have
heard concerning you. You have steeped your hands, or would have done
so, in the blood of innocent victims, for the sake of carrying out an
unworthy revenge on the daughter of your benefactors. It was a crime
which would make any honest person shrink from you, which would make
most people consider that a death on the gallows, or in the Alligator
Swamp, was your just deserts. But I cannot _forget_, Henri. Ever since
I have known your relations with my adopted sister, I have ceased to
desire your affection; but I cannot forget that I once valued it, and
to think of your being sent out of the world without the opportunity to
repent, was very terrible to me. _That_ is why I have run this risk to
save you, and why I am thankful I have succeeded. But don’t speak of
love to me again, or you may make me sorry instead of glad.’

There was a calm, reasonable determination in her voice as she spoke,
that brought conviction home to Henri de Courcelles’ mind. He saw it
plainly now. He had not only lost her love,--he had forfeited her
respect and her esteem; and as the truth smote home to him, the
unwonted tears rose to his eyes.

‘Why didn’t you leave me in the swamp?’ he murmured. ‘I had better
have remained there, to become the prey of the alligators, than live
under your contempt. Let me go back,’ he continued, starting to his
feet, ‘for your words have taken all my courage out of me, and I would
rather die a thousand deaths by my own hand than fall into those of my
enemies, and swing like a malefactor from the Fort gates.’

‘You shall do neither!’ exclaimed Lizzie, as she caught his arm, and
drew him down to her side again. ‘Come, Henri, be reasonable. Remember
I am your friend, and have thought out the whole plan of your escape.
Put on this cloak and _sombrero_. See how completely they disguise you,
and cover you from head to foot. The only thing we have to dread now
is lest some acquaintance should meet and question me; but that is very
unlikely, as this is the general dinner hour for all Europeans, and I
will take you home by an unfrequented path.’

‘But when I reach your bungalow, Lizzie, what will Rosa say?’

‘I have been obliged to take Rosa into my confidence, Henri, but she
will not betray you. As for the rest, leave it to me, and I believe
that, with Heaven’s aid, I can bring you out of this strait.’

‘You are too good to me,’ he said brokenly; ‘and I place myself
altogether in your hands. Lead on, Lizzie, as you think best, and I
will follow.’

‘No, Henri; we will walk side by side. It will be much better, in
case of an encounter with any one who knows us, that I should show a
perfect fearlessness in the matter. Take my staff in your hand, and
sling the wallet across your shoulder. Then we shall look as if we had
been searching the country for herbs for medicinal purposes; and I will
gather a bundle of leaves, in order to carry out the delusion. That is
right. Now come with me, and let us step out manfully together.’

They traversed the couple of miles that lay between them and
Beauregard, without encountering anything more formidable than a few
negroes sauntering along the road as they returned from work. But as
they approached the plantation, the danger of discovery became more
imminent, and Lizzie conducted her companion to her bungalow by a
circuitous route.

It was reached at last, however, and as De Courcelles sank into one of
the familiar chairs in the sitting-room, he felt like a man who has
been delivered from the very jaws of death to be suddenly transported
into paradise.

‘But you must not rest here, Henri,’ whispered Lizzie, as she quickly
closed all the jalousies. ‘Mr Courtney or one of the hands might enter
at any moment. There would be continual risk of discovery.’

‘Where, then?’ he demanded, in the same tone.

‘In my dear father’s bedroom. It has never been opened since his death,
and you are not likely to be disturbed there. You know what these
silly, superstitious natives are. They would not enter a chamber where
a death has occurred, to save their lives. They would be fearful of
encountering my dear father’s wraith. You see now my object in dressing
you up in his cloak and hat. If any of our negroes had seen you, he
would probably have run shrieking to his hut, to spread the report that
the Doctor’s ghost was walking about Beauregard. You must remember to
keep up the idea, should any unforeseen risk occur. But here, for a
few days at least, I believe you will be safe,’ continued Lizzie, as
she unlocked the door of her late father’s apartment, ‘until I can
get you away from the island. You will have to be my prisoner,’ she
added playfully; ‘and I shall lock you in, and bring you your meals at
the stated times. But keep the jalousies bolted inside night and day,
and try to do with as little light as possible, to avoid attracting
attention. You will find all my dear father’s wardrobe in the cupboard
here. Use it as you think best, and try and be contented under the
restraint, and thankful (as I am) that Heaven has spared your life to
you.’

He turned round as he crossed the threshold, and sank on his knees
before her.

‘You have forbidden me to speak of love,’ he ejaculated, ‘but I must
say something to express my gratitude. You have indeed heaped coals of
fire on my head! You have done what no other living creature, male or
female, would have done; you have risked your life and safety for me,
who have treated you worse than any one else. Let me say Heaven bless
you for it, Lizzie. I feel if there is a hell beyond the one we suffer
here, that mine will be to remember always the terrible mistake I made
in allowing a woman’s personal beauty to blind me to the virtues of
the friend whom I now feel I have loved and honoured above all the
world.’

He took her hand and kissed it as he spoke, and Lizzie was not ashamed
to let her tears fall freely on them both.

‘I am glad now, Henri,’ she uttered falteringly, ‘and I shall be glad
in the days to come to think over the words you have just said, and to
remember that you knew me for your true friend. There are different
kinds of love from the one we once thought we felt for each other--and
perhaps better ones--and something of the sort I shall never cease to
feel for you. And if you think you owe me gratitude, Henri--if you
would repay me let it be by abandoning all ideas of revenge and murder
for the future. Don’t let me have the terrible self-reproach that I
have wasted my affection on one so utterly unworthy of it.’

‘I have taken a different oath, Lizzie, but I will rescind it, for your
sake, and here on my knees I swear to you that if I am spared to escape
the gallows, I will abandon all ideas of revenge in the future. After
all, Maraquita is but a false woman, not worthy of a man’s revenge.
There are dozens such: the world is peopled with them.’

‘She is the woman you loved, Henri,’ replied Lizzie gravely, ‘and
therefore she is the woman you should always be most lenient to. But
she has passed out of your world, and the kindest thing you can do
for her and yourself is to forget her. But you must not talk of such
exciting topics to-night. It may be some time before you shake off the
effects of the poisonous vapours you have inhaled. Go to rest now, and
sleep without fear. I will guarantee that no one shall disturb your
slumbers.’

De Courcelles took her advice, and flung himself, exhausted through
excitement and fatigue, upon the late Doctor’s bed, whilst she, with a
divine light, almost akin to maternal solicitude, upon her countenance,
took a seat in the outer room, and prepared to watch all night against
a possible surprise for the man she held prisoner.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




CHAPTER VII.


But from that moment Lizzie had not a moment’s peace. She dreaded
everything and everybody. Each casual visitor she believed to be a
spy, and the appearance of a friend made her think that the hour of
discovery had come. Rosa made her a thousand promises of fidelity,
but the yellow girl, though devoted to her mistress’s interests, was,
after all, very much like other women, and found it a hard task to hold
her tongue. The whole time she was employed in exercising the baby
in the plantation, was a season of torture to Lizzie, who pictured
her confiding the whole story to her most intimate friend, under a
promise of inviolable secrecy. Meanwhile Henri de Courcelles, though
confined to one room during the day time, and only venturing out after
dark by means of the window, and with a disguise on, was passing a
fairly pleasant time. The two women fed him royally, and waited on him
like servants, and he held several conferences with Lizzie as to the
possibility of his getting down to the Fort by night, and embarking as
a seaman on board one of the Spanish crafts that lay in the bay of San
Diego. They would have carried this plan, of which they had arranged
all the minutiæ together, into effect at once, had it not been deemed
advisable that De Courcelles should lie _perdu_ until it might be
supposed by the authorities that their prisoner had perished beyond all
doubt in the Alligator Swamp. As soon as the guard of mounted police
who watched for him outside the swamp was withdrawn, Lizzie and De
Courcelles decided that his first attempt at an escape from the island
should be made. He had been concealed in the bungalow for two days
when Mr Courtney walked in one morning and took a seat beside Lizzie.
The planter looked worn and anxious, and as he removed his hat, and
passed his handkerchief across his brow, he seemed to have grown older
of late, notwithstanding the brilliant marriage that his daughter had
made. The words with which he opened the conversation, had reference to
Maraquita.

‘Sir Russell and Lady Johnstone have come to stay with us at the White
House, Lizzie.’

‘Indeed, sir,’ she replied. ‘I suppose Quita is nervous of staying at
Government House, after what happened there last week. And I don’t
wonder at it, poor girl! I should be glad to hear that the Governor had
decided to take her to England.’

‘So should we, my dear, and they will go before long--there is no
doubt of that--only, it would hardly do for the Governor to run away
whilst the island is in this state of ferment. But he judged rightly in
thinking that our dear Maraquita would feel safer and happier with her
parents, and in her old home. For she has received a terrible shock,
Lizzie, and it is telling on her visibly. She seems ten years older to
me.’

‘Poor Quita, she cannot fail to feel it,’ replied Lizzie, looking at
the matter in a totally different light from that in which Mr Courtney
regarded it.

‘Yes, and I wish I could think that there was no further reason for her
fears. Lizzie, I have come here this morning for one purpose only,--to
persuade you to return with me to the White House.’

Lizzie started, and coloured.

‘Oh, Mr Courtney, I cannot. I don’t know why you want me there, but
unless it is in my capacity as medical adviser, I must refuse. You
forget that Mrs Courtney ordered me never to show my face there again.’

‘I can allow no feminine quarrels to interfere with your safety,
Lizzie; and it is to secure _that_ that I beg of you to take up your
residence at my house until these mutinous ideas have been knocked out
of the coolies’ heads. I do not feel that you are safe,--that we are,
any of us, safe. I begin to distrust even my own hands, for whom I have
done all in my power.’

‘Mr Courtney, I appreciate your kindness, but there are too many
reasons why I cannot accept it.’

‘Name them, my dear.’

‘I have named one already, sir. Another is my infant charge. Do you
suppose I would desert her?’

‘Bring her with you. There is room in the White House for us all.’

‘No, Mr Courtney,’ she answered proudly, ‘it is _impossible_. I will
not take the child under the roof of the very woman who has falsely
accused me of being its mother.’

‘But I am sure, Lizzie, that neither my wife nor Maraquita really
believe that story.’

‘And I am sure of it too, sir; but that only places their cruelty to me
in a more heinous light. Forgive me for saying it, Mr Courtney, before
you, who have always been so good to me and my poor father, but I will
never again place myself voluntarily in the society of either Mrs
Courtney or Maraquita, until they have publicly acknowledged that they
have done me a foul wrong.’

‘They have been very hard on you,’ sighed the planter; ‘but their
conduct cannot blind me to my duty. I cannot consent to your remaining
here, Lizzie. The negroes may rise at any moment, and this bungalow is
in the very midst of their quarters. I have received secret information
concerning them, that has seriously alarmed me. The general
disaffection has spread much further than I dreamt of, and even the
hands on Beauregard are believed to be ripe for rebellion. Were they to
take it into their heads to rise, what would you do?’

Lizzie laughed at the idea.

‘In that case, sir--did I believe it possible (which I can hardly do)
that your coolies could so utterly forget all they owe to you--I should
be much safer _here_ than in the White House. Why should they harbour
any resentment against _me_? They loved my dear father, and I believe
they love me for his sake, and _I_ have nothing to do with their
fancied causes for complaint. If they do rise, which God forbid, it
will be the White House against which they will make a raid.’

‘Ah, my dear child, long as you have lived amongst them, you do not
know the negro nature as I do. Once roused, he becomes a devil, and has
no power of distinguishing between friends and foes. This bungalow will
be the first piece of my property which they will have the opportunity
of destroying, and I feel sure they will not spare it, nor perhaps
even _you_. Lizzie, I beg, I implore of you to accept my offer of
protection, and transport yourself, and all you value, to the White
House.’

But Lizzie was firm. She quailed a little before the possible picture
Mr Courtney had conjured up,--before the remembrance too of certain
words of Captain Norris, in which he had expressed his own fears for
her safety; but they had no power to alter her determination. There
was her poor prisoner in the next room to them. Guilty as he had proved
himself to be, she had promised him her protection, and she would stand
by him to the last, even if they were doomed to perish together. So she
only shook her head, and smiled, and continued stitching at her work.

‘Your obstinacy is incredible to me,’ said Mr Courtney, half angrily,
‘and you put me in a very unpleasant position. I promised your father
(as far as I could) to supply his place to you. I look on you as second
only to my own child, yet you refuse to accept from me a father’s
protection, or to yield me the obedience of a daughter.’

‘I am sorry to appear ungrateful to you, Mr Courtney, but I have my own
reasons for remaining in my own home, and your arguments have no power
to shake them. Pray don’t be under any further apprehension for me--I
have none for myself; and if your workers _are_ disposed to mutiny, it
is all the more reason that I should remain amongst them, and try to
bring them to a better frame of mind.’

‘Ah, I have heard of your attempts in that direction already, Lizzie,
and that the coolies call you the angel of Beauregard! You are a good
girl, my dear, and may God reward you for all you have done. I am only
sorry that unfortuitous circumstances should have laid this burden
of secrecy upon you. But cheer up; the day will come, perhaps, when
it will be removed as unexpectedly as it appeared. And no one shall
rejoice more when that day comes than I shall, Lizzie.’

She sighed, but she answered nothing. She knew that if the day he spoke
of ever dawned, it would be to bow her benefactor’s head with shame.

‘And so all my entreaties are in vain?’ said Mr Courtney, as he rose to
go.

‘Yes, sir; I shall remain here; and honestly, I do not believe you have
any cause for fear.’

Yet she pondered over what he had told her all that day, not from any
dread of her own safety, but endeavouring to think of some plan for
getting Henri de Courcelles away before there was any possibility of
his detection. For she felt that if the coolies on Beauregard _did_
rise, and proceed to incendiarism or slaughter, Henri de Courcelles,
who had been their tyrannical master in the days gone by, and their
inciter to rebellion in the present, would be the first victim of
their lawless passions. Her mind was still running on the same subject
when the evening shadows closed, and Hugh Norris unexpectedly walked
into the room.

Her first feeling at seeing him was one of such unmitigated pleasure,
that she could not help betraying it.

‘Oh, Hugh--I mean, Captain Norris,’ she exclaimed, ‘are you really back
again? I am so glad--I didn’t think--I was afraid that--’ and here she
stopped, blushing for her incoherency.

‘Are you _really_ glad?’ he said, taking her hand, and warmly pressing
it, whilst his open countenance revealed his emotion. ‘Have you felt my
absence, Lizzie? Have our two months of separation stretched themselves
out to their full term?’

‘Indeed they have,’ she answered ingenuously. ‘I have been counting
the days till you should return. For we have passed through a terrible
time since you left us. But perhaps you have already heard of it.’

‘Indeed I have heard of it, Lizzie,’ he said gravely, ‘and I thank God
that it was no worse. What should I have done had you been involved in
this horrible catastrophe? But I am here, and you are safe, and I will
not leave San Diego again until I take you with me. Was I not right in
my forebodings?’

‘Partially so; but you see that no one has harmed me yet. What a quick
passage you have made this time, Captain Norris.’

‘Very quick; but you may imagine that I wasted no more time in England
than I could help, Lizzie. I was not out of sight of San Diego before
I was longing to get back again, and, thanks to favourable winds, and
an obliging supercargo, I have made the double passage in as short a
time as is possible. But I found time to accomplish my heart’s desire,
all the same.’

‘What was that?’ she demanded curiously.

‘Do you remember the packet of letters you threw me to read when we
last said good-bye, and you had to run off to attend to some woolly
infant or other?’

‘Yes, yes, I remember. It was Mammy Chloe’s baby,’ she answered,
laughing.

‘The first letter I opened surprised me more than anything has ever
done in my life before. It was from your late father to Mr Courtney,
and he signed himself “Herbert Ruthin,” and wrote in familiar terms of
his father and mother, Sir William and Lady Ruthin, and of their place
in Scotland--Aberdare.’

‘Well, well! of course; it was his own home,’ interrupted Lizzie
impatiently. ‘Why should it have so greatly surprised you?’

‘Because, Lizzie, my mother (whose maiden name was Mary Herbert) is a
second or third cousin of Lady Ruthin, and when her ladyship came to
Maidstone, which is close to mother’s home, a few years ago, she called
on us, and took dinner at the cottage.’

‘Oh, Hugh, how very, _very_ strange!’ cried Lizzie, forgetting
etiquette in her breathless surprise.

‘Yes, it is only another proof of how small the world is, and how we
are all but one large family. I remembered Lady Ruthin’s visit to my
mother distinctly, and also that I had heard she had had great trouble
about her second son Herbert, but I fancied he was dead. When I learnt
the truth from those letters, I determined to see Sir William and Lady
Ruthin on my return to England, and I did so.’

‘You _did_!’ echoed Lizzie; ‘and, oh! what did they say?’

‘I was only at Aberdare two hours, dearest,’ replied Captain Norris,
growing bolder as he gained his advantage, ‘but it was long enough to
serve my purpose. I told them everything, Lizzie,--what a good life
your dear father had lived here, expiating his youthful error by a
course of self-abnegation, and how like a martyr he had died, stricken
down by the exhaustion consequent on his labours for others. And I
soon found that if their pride and mortification have prevented their
speaking of their lost son for so many years past, it has not been
because the love of him has faded from their hearts. They concluded
he was dead long ago, but as I spoke of him, they were both melted
into tears, and reproached themselves bitterly for not having employed
stronger measures to ascertain his fate.’

‘My poor darling father!’ exclaimed Lizzie, weeping; ‘how I wish he
could have had the comfort of knowing that his parents felt for him.’

‘Doubtless he knows it now, dear. But my story is not done yet,
Lizzie. When I had told Sir William and Lady Ruthin all I knew about
your father, I spoke of _you_, and their excitement became painful to
witness. They are longing to see you, my dear, and make up to you for
all you have suffered on account of your poor father’s exile. I am the
bearer of a letter from them begging you at once to return to England
and place yourself under their protection. I shall see you in your
proper position at last, Lizzie, and reaping the reward you so richly
deserve. I cannot tell you how proud and happy I feel to have been made
the instrument of this change in your destinies.’

Lizzie looked up at him gratefully.

‘It was so good of you to think of it,’ she murmured; ‘but I can hardly
believe it yet. My dear father’s parents! They will seem like part of
himself to me, and especially if they cherish his memory. And I shall
owe it all to you. What can I do for you in return, Hugh?’

‘Only one thing, dear. Let me take you back to England, and present
you to your grandparents as _my wife_.’

‘Did you--did you--say anything to them about it?’ she asked timidly.

‘Well, I gave them a hint on the subject,’ he answered, laughing; ‘as
far, that is to say, as _I_ am concerned--I could not answer for _you_,
you know, because you have not yet answered for yourself.’

‘And how did they take it?’

‘They were good enough to say that they would make no objection
whatever to me as your husband, provided I gave up the sea and kept
you on dry land. And Sir William promised, moreover, in that case, to
help me to obtain suitable employment. And so you see, my dear, the
conclusion of the matter rests with you. What is your answer?’

She saw the deep blue honest eyes gazing fondly into her own, and had
just placed her hand in his preparatory to saying ‘Yes,’ when a loud
unmistakable cough sounded from the inner room.

‘What is that?’ exclaimed Hugh Norris, starting to his feet, his senses
always acutely alive to possible danger. ‘There is some one in your
father’s bedroom. Stand aside, Lizzie, and let me see who it is.’

He seized his stick--his only weapon--as he spoke, and was about to try
the locked door. But she interposed herself between him and it.

‘You cannot enter that room, Captain Norris. It is fastened.’

‘Then some one--a mutineer, perhaps--must have got in by the window. I
am certain my ears did not deceive me. The sound we heard proceeded
from that room, and I must satisfy myself on the subject.’

He was about to pass her, when she put out her hand to prevent him, and
he observed how very pale and strained her face (but a few moments ago
so smiling) had suddenly become.

‘Captain Norris, I hold this room sacred to myself, and neither you,
nor any man, shall cross the threshold.’

He looked full at her then in his amazement, and the truth seemed to
flash suddenly upon him.

‘You have been deceiving me!’ he exclaimed; ‘you have some one
concealed there whom you are ashamed to tell me of! Who is it?’ he
continued, in a low voice, which threatened danger,--‘that blackguard
De Courcelles, who would have slaughtered every European in the Fort,
if he had had his way, and whom I hear has been in hiding ever since?’

Lizzie was silent. Twice her mouth opened to utter a lie in the defence
of her former lover, and twice it died unuttered on her lips. Hugh
Norris knew her too well to misinterpret her want of courage. He threw
her one look of deep reproach, and, turning away, sat down by the
table, and buried his face in his hands. Lizzie could not withstand
the action. She crept after him, and laid her hand timidly upon his
shoulder.

‘Hugh,’ she whispered, ‘Hugh--’

But he jerked the kindly touch away, almost roughly.

‘Don’t come near me,’ he muttered, ‘Don’t speak to me. You are false,
and you have destroyed all my faith in womankind.’

‘No, no, Hugh! you shall not say that of me. Listen, and I will tell
you everything. I should have told it you in any case, for I sorely
need your counsel and advice, only we have had no time as yet to speak
of any one but ourselves. But you are good, and noble, and true, and
if you do not approve of my action, you will at least not betray it.
I will not deceive you, and I think, when you know all, you will
acknowledge you would have done the same. Henri de Courcelles is in
that room, a fugitive hiding from the law! No, don’t look at me like
that! I call Heaven to witness he is not there as my lover, but that I
would have extended the same succour to any fellow-creature who threw
himself upon my mercy. Hugh! I heard that he had escaped from the Fort
prison, and eluded the pursuit of the police by taking refuge in the
Alligator Swamp. Could I have left him there to perish by a miserable
death, without making one effort to save him?’

Captain Norris looked up at her in amazement.

‘But what could _you_ do?’ he inquired. ‘Not a man in San Diego would
venture to penetrate the horrors of the swamp, unless he wished to die.’

‘Yet a _woman_ did,’ she whispered.

‘Lizzie, you do not mean to tell me that you went yourself?--that you
risked the awful dangers of the miasma and the alligators, for the sake
of this man, and that you live to tell the tale?’

‘The danger was not so great for me as for another, Hugh, because I
knew the proper preventatives to carry with me. Anyway, I went, and
I was successful. I found this unhappy and misguided man nearly
unconscious from the effects of the poisonous air he was inhaling, and
I brought him safely out of it, and have hid him here for the last
two days, until I could devise some plan to get him away from San
Diego. Will you help me, Hugh? I know it is a great thing to ask at
your hands; and I have not another friend whom I would trust with the
secret; but I shall not rest till I know he is secure from suffering a
malefactor’s death upon the gallows.’

‘He deserves it, Lizzie, if any one ever did.’

‘I know it! but if we all received our deserts in this world, how badly
we should fare! Hugh, you will believe me when I tell you that such
love as I once entertained for Henri de Courcelles is all past, and for
ever. I see his character in its true light at last,--as vindictive
and revengeful and untrue! But that does not alter the case that once
I thought him good enough to be my husband, and mine is a heart that
cannot entirely forget!’

‘What do you want me to do for him, Lizzie?’

‘To get him down to the docks in disguise, and ship him on board one
of the vessels there that are bound for Spain or America. It would be
cruel to send him anywhere else. And if that should be impossible to do
all at once, couldn’t you let him stay on the _Trevelyan_ till you are
able to send him away?’ continued Lizzie wistfully.

‘You ask me to do a very wrong and dangerous thing, my dear,--to
harbour a rebel against the British Government, and cheat the gallows
of its just due.’

‘No, Hugh--to succour a wretched fellow-creature, who was half driven
to madness by a woman’s treachery, before he dreamt of committing such
a crime. I cannot tell you all his story, but if you knew it, you would
pity him, as I do.’

‘Nothing of the sort. I despise the fool for having thrown away such
a heart as he had found in yours! Why, Lizzie! you are a heroine, and
the noblest woman I ever met! Well, and suppose I become a traitor to
my Queen and country at your command, and help this rascally lover of
yours to escape the ends of justice, what reward am I to expect for the
risk I shall run?’

‘What reward do you want?’ she answered, smiling at him through her
tears. ‘You shall name it, Hugh, for I see you are going to do this
great and generous thing for my sake, and hold out a helping hand to
your unfortunate rival.’

‘Promise to become my wife, Lizzie! Nothing short of that will quite
satisfy me of the purity of your benevolence for De Courcelles--because
I know your nobility of character too well to think you would ever
bestow your hand on one man whilst there was a remnant of love left in
your heart for another.’

‘You only do me justice there, Hugh; for if I am not _true_ I am
nothing. Yes, I will be your wife, whenever you choose to ask me, and
(God helping me) a good and faithful one.’

‘And a loving one into the bargain?’ he returned interrogatively. ‘I
will not accept your hand without your heart, Lizzie.’

‘Can any wife be good and faithful if she is not loving, Hugh? But do
not be afraid! _I love you._ Is that enough?’

‘Then come to my arms!’ he exclaimed, as he rose and held them out
to her. She was hesitating just a little, not entirely from coyness,
but because it is so sweet to dally with our happiness--when a low
murmuring sound, like the first menacing tones of thunder, or the
moaning of a sleuthhound when it finds the trail, which evidently
proceeded from the negroes’ quarters, made them start asunder, and
change colour.

‘What was that?’ demanded Lizzie, under her breath, as Hugh Norris
threw his arm round her for protection.

‘It is the groaning of a crowd,’ he answered. ‘It is the first note of
mutiny. Lizzie, there is something wrong! For God’s sake, let me take
you away from this.’

But she struggled to free herself.

‘If they are rising, Hugh, let me go to them! No one understands them
as I do! Let me speak, and they will obey me! I can do with them as I
like.’

But before he had time to put into words his entreaty that she would
resign herself to his protection, a piercing shriek seemed to rend the
evening air, and the next minute Rosa, the yellow girl, rushed into the
room, with Maraquita’s infant in her arms.

‘Oh, Missy Liz,’ she cried, ‘what have they done to my baby? Dis
crowd of niggers is all cryin’ out for dere rights, and down with de
planters, and I coming along, and dey pulled de poor baby from my arms,
and hit it on de head with a stone. Oh, Missy Liz, I couldn’t help it!
I screamed to dem to leave my poor baby alone! But dey call out ’tis
Missy Quita’s chile and Massa Courcelles’, and den dey strike it again.
And the baby’s berry sick, Missy Liz--berry sick, indeed,’ continued
Rosa, weeping, and rocking the bundle in her arms.

‘Give it to me,’ said Lizzie calmly, though her face was deathly white,
but not so white as that of Maraquita’s infant, which lay calm and
peaceful in the sleep of death, with a discoloured bruise upon its
little forehead, where the cruel stone had struck it.

‘She is _dead_!’ said Lizzie solemnly, as she placed the body on the
table. She did not shed a tear as she did so, but Hugh Norris, looking
up at her, marked the deep lines which suppressed emotion had drawn
upon her forehead, and thought he had never seen her look so stern
before.

‘My poor little Mary,’ she said, in a low voice, as she gazed upon
the infant’s dead form. ‘This is the first-fruits of the Beauregard
rebellion, Hugh! They have risen at last, and they will not stop here!
What will become of them all at the White House?’

‘We must give the alarm at once,’ said Captain Norris. ‘They may not
be prepared for this outbreak. But Lizzie, I will not go and leave you
here! If you wish your friends to be put on their guard, you must come
with me.’

‘It is too late,’ she answered: ‘they are already upon us! We should
only walk into their midst. Listen to that--’

She held up her finger, and Captain Norris could distinctly hear the
yelling of a mob of coolies advancing on the plantation, and see the
flaming torches which they carried in their hands, whilst in another
moment two or three random shots proved that they were carrying
firearms, and prepared to use them.’

‘The devils!’ cried Norris. ‘Is it possible they can have the heart to
injure _you_, after all you have done for them?’

‘No, no, massa!’ exclaimed the yellow girl; ‘coolies never hurting
Missy Liz; they love her too much for dat. Only dey want revenge on
Massa Courtney and de Governor and Missy Quita. Missy Liz, dey will
fire de White House for sure, and kill de Governor! Hark! they hab
passed oder side of plantation. Dey go by Oleander Bungalow to de big
house, and nebber come near Missy Liz at all.’

‘They have come near enough, in killing my poor baby!’ exclaimed
Lizzie, weeping, as she kissed the dead child. ‘If they love _me_, why
couldn’t they have spared _her_?’

‘’Cause she belong to dat De Courcelles, and grow up bad like him and
Missy Quita. Dat what dem trashy niggers say,’ replied Rosa, joining
her sobs to those of her mistress.

‘Is it possible this child belongs to Lady Johnstone?’ demanded Norris.

‘Oh, hush, Hugh! don’t mention it, even _here_!’ said Lizzie. ‘I have
kept the secret for _her_ sake--not his!’

‘Oh, my brave girl, your love has indeed earned the martyr’s crown!’ he
answered, looking at her with the deepest admiration and respect. ‘But
hark, Lizzie! Surely the mob have turned this way.’

At that moment a kind of sudden rush through the darkness outside was
followed by the entrance of Mr and Mrs Courtney, with Maraquita and
Sir Russell Johnstone! The women were in their evening dresses--half
fainting with fear, and their protectors were almost as agitated as
themselves.

‘Lizzie,’ cried Mr Courtney, ‘give us shelter, for God’s sake! Hide
us in your rooms, and this murderous crew will not dare to follow
us there. They are fond of you, Lizzie, and they will believe what
you say. Make them hear reason, in Heaven’s name! or we shall all be
slaughtered before your eyes!’

‘Quick! quick! in here!’ she exclaimed, as she thrust the whole party
into her own bedroom, and closed the door. ‘Go with them, Hugh,’ she
said, when they had concealed themselves, ‘and let me bring these
mutineers to reason.’

‘And leave you to fall a prey to their baffled wrath, or become a
billet for the first bullet that strays this way, Lizzie,’ he answered
tenderly. ‘No, my dear. You have said you love me; and if we have to
die, we will die together.’

Before she could answer him, a crew of dusky faces were surrounding
the bungalow, blocking up the verandah, pressing into the doors, and
filling up the framework of the windows.

‘Whar’s de Gubnor and de planter? Is dem in hiding here?’ they shouted.
‘Gib dem up, Missy Liz, or we must enter de bungalow, and we doesn’t
want to do dat. Gib dem up, missy, and don’t you be skeered--no nigger
hurting one hair ob your head.’

‘I’m not afraid of you for myself, my friends,’ she exclaimed,
standing out boldly to the front, and facing the crowd of rebels, ‘for
you have always been good and kind to me; but if you love me, you will
go away to your own quarters, and leave my house alone!’

‘D’rectly we finds de Gubnor and de planter, Missy Liz. But we’se sworn
to ruin dem, and we must do it--dat’s so!’

‘And de Gubnor’s wife!’ shrieked a female voice, that might be heard
all over the bungalow. ‘Dat gal what pretends to be so good, and dat is
de moder of dat baby you keep, Missy Liz. She and Massa Courcelles know
all about dat chile; and I wish dey could swing together!’

‘Hush, Jerusha, hush! Go away, and keep your evil tongue to yourself!’
cried Lizzie.

‘Dat’s true, and you know it, Missy Liz. And de Governor shall know it,
too, and Massa Courtney, and all de world, dat she am no better than de
poor coolie gals what go all wrong.’

‘Jerusha, I _implore_ you, for God’s sake!’ commenced Lizzie again.

But before she could finish her entreaty, Maraquita had pushed open
the bedroom door, and stood beside her, pale and trembling, but not
courageous, except with the courage born of despair.

‘It _is_ true!’ she gasped, rather than said, ‘and I am ready to
confess it. No, Lizzie, don’t try to prevent my speaking. Everybody
may hear me now. I can suffer in secret no longer. Father, I am not
what you thought me! I am a sinful girl, and I have let the burden of
my shameful secret rest on Lizzie’s shoulders. These people only say
what is true. They hate me for what I have done, and want to revenge
themselves on us all, for my sake. Perhaps, now that I have confessed
my sin, they will pity and forgive me.’

She sunk exhausted with fear and shame on Lizzie’s shoulder as she
finished her recital. Sir Russell Johnstone and her parents were
standing by, horror-struck by what they had heard, and forgetful of
their own safety in the agony of witnessing her humiliation. But Lizzie
was the only person who addressed her.

‘Hush, Quita, you have said enough; and surely all will think you have
suffered sufficiently, and need no further punishment.’

But the continual groaning and muttering of the crowd outside did not
seem as though their anger was appeased, and Quita shuddered as she
heard it.

‘Give me my child!’ she exclaimed wildly. ‘Everything is slipping from
me. My father and mother stand by in silence, my husband will drive me
from his house. Give me something that I can call my own! Lizzie, I
want my child!’

‘_There_ is your child, Quita,’ replied her adopted sister sadly, as
she led her to the table. ‘God has already called it through their
hands to Himself. They would not leave you even that poor consolation,
my unhappy Quita.’

‘_Dead!_’ cried the unfortunate Lady Russell, as she gazed upon her
infant’s breathless form, ‘_dead!_ Oh, Henri, Henri, why was I ever
untrue to you, and to myself? My punishment is harder than I can bear.’

As she sunk upon her knees, and her pitiful cry of ‘Henri’ sounded on
the air, De Courcelles, unable to restrain his feelings longer, burst
open his prison door and rushed in upon them.

‘Yes,’ he exclaimed triumphantly, as he glared round upon the parents
and husband of Maraquita, ‘she speaks the truth at last. I had sworn
to have her life, in exchange for that of which she has robbed me; but
she has avenged herself. Take me prisoner again, as soon as you like. I
shall die contented, to know what her future life must be.’

‘Dey nebber _take_ you!’ cried a shrill voice at the open casement,
which was immediately followed by a shot, which brought Henri de
Courcelles to the ground.

‘_Jerusha!_’ he muttered between his teeth as he fell, with the dark
blood and froth bubbling from his lips.

Lizzie was at his side in a moment tearing away his shirt, and striving
to stem the current of his life. But it was in vain. The overseer had
met his fate at last, and was rapidly bleeding to death.

‘Henri,’ she cried, in a voice of distress, ‘I can do nothing for you!
You are going to God! May He bless and forgive you.’

‘As--you--have--done,’ he gasped out, as his lifeless head fell from
her arm.

Sir Russell Johnstone had stood by, stern and miserable, watching the
pitiable sight, and listening to the confession which dashed all the
brightness from his married life, but Maraquita and her parents had
hidden themselves away, unable to bear such a strain upon their nervous
systems. Hugh Norris seeing that all was over, came forward to take
Lizzie in his arms; but she turned from him, and walked bravely into
the midst of the mutineers. Their flaring torches fell full on her
ashen face, and lighted up the large tears standing in her eyes; but
she stood before them without one sign of fear, and her voice was loud
and determined.

‘Are you satisfied now?’ she demanded boldly, ‘or are not two lives
sufficient to gorge your lust for blood? Do you know what you have
done? You say you _love_ me, and would not harm a hair of my head,
yet you have killed the man you knew was dear to me! You have made me
risk my life in vain. Two days ago I walked into the Alligator Swamp
alone, to find Henri de Courcelles, and save him from the gallows, and
I brought him here, only to fall a victim to your barbarity. Was that
love for _me_? And the poor baby too--the little innocent child that I
was bringing up as my own, and that had never done you any harm, you
must needs take that from me too. Now, what more do you want? Is it my
own life? You may as well kill me as well as the rest. Perhaps I am not
more worthy to live, in your estimation, than they were.’

At this harangue, the ringleaders of the mutiny drew back abashed. They
had not calculated that in taking their revenge on Henri de Courcelles
they would injure their ‘Missy Liz.’

‘Missy Liz, no talking like dat,’ said an aged negro, speaking for
the rest. ‘Missy know we lub her, and call her de Good Angel ob
Beauregard.’

‘Then if you love me, coolies, prove it by what you do. Give up this
hateful mutiny against those who only desire your good, and let the
Governor, and Mr and Mrs Courtney, return to the White House in peace.
If you don’t, I warn you my life will be the sacrifice, for you shall
trample over my body before you enter the bungalow in search of them.’

She placed her two hands on the lintels of the doorposts as she spoke,
to bar their way, and the negroes saw she was in earnest.

‘Go back to your quarters, my friends,’ she continued, in a softer
voice. ‘In my name, and the name of all whom I love, I beg of you to
return quietly to your homes, and relinquish your murderous design.’

‘For _your_ sake den, Missy Liz, for _your_ sake,’ replied the coolies,
as, startled, and somewhat ashamed of themselves, for they had no
real cause of complaint, and had only been incited on by the example
of others, the crowd broke up into groups, and commenced to walk back
slowly to their homes. And then Lizzie turned round, and threw herself
weeping into Hugh Norris’s arms.


THE END.


COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.




TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:


  Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

  Emboldened text is surrounded by equals signs: =bold=.

  Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

  Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

  Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.





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