Kitabı oku: «The Bunsby Papers (second series): Irish Echoes», sayfa 7

THE TEST OF BLOOD

"Thou shalt do no murder."

"You won't dance with me, Kathleen?"

"No, Luke, I will not."

"For what reason?"

"I don't choose it. Besides, I'm engaged to Mark Dermot."

The above, very slight conversation in itself, was to the individuals, full of the greatest import. To explain it, it will be necessary to take a Parthian glance at our subject. Kathleen Dwyer was the pretty, spoiled, village pet, with quite sufficient vanity to know that the preference was deserved. Every young man in the place was anxious to pay court to her, and sooth to say, she impartially dispensed her smiles to all, reserving, it must be admitted, her more serious thoughts for one alone. That one was Luke Bryant, and as he really loved her, the flightiness of her conduct, and her interminable flirtations gave him very great uneasiness. Often and often would he reason with her, imploring her to dismiss the crowd of purposeless suitors that ever fluttered round, and select one, even though that selection would doom him to misery.

"No, no!" the little madcap would say, with a bright smile, "I cannot give up altogether the delight of having so many male slaves in my train; they are useful, and if you don't like it you know your remedy."

"But do you think it is right?" he would say; "suppose there may be some, even one who loves you truly, to lead him on by the false light of your encouraging smile, to perish at last?"

"Pshaw!" would she answer, "men are not made of such perishable stuff."

"Well, well, Kathleen, have a care; if any one of your numerous admirers feels towards you as I do, to lose you would be the loss of everything."

As may be reasonably supposed, these conversations usually ended in a little tiff, when the wild, good-hearted, but giddy-headed girl would select some one from her surrounding beaux, to play off against Luke; generally pitching upon the person most likely to touch his feelings to the very quick; herself, the while, I must do her the justice to say, quite as miserable if not more so, than her victim.

And now to return, let me describe the individual whom she has this time chosen to inflict torture upon her lover, and I think you will agree with me that he has cause for more than discontent.

Mark Dermot, or, as he was most generally denominated, Black Mark, was one of those persons we sometimes meet with in the world, on whom prepossessing appearance and great natural ability are bestowed, only to be put to the basest possible uses. Character he had none, except of the very worst kind; his ostensible pursuit was smuggling, but crimes of the darkest nature were freely whispered about him, and yet, in spite of all this, his dashing dare-devil nature and indomitable impudence, enabled him to show himself in places where, although his evil reputation was well known, he was tolerated either from supineness, or more likely from the fear of his enmity.

It is not to be wondered at then, that as Luke stood by and saw this ruffian carry off his soul's beloved, his very heart should quake from apprehension. He was unaware until this moment that she ever knew him, and his feelings, as ever and anon Mark would seem to whisper something in Kathleen's ear, to which she would seem to smile an approval, can only be imagined by such of my readers, if any there be, who have seen another feeding upon smiles which they would fain monopolize.

Jealousy of the most painful nature took possession of Luke; he had often experienced sensations of annoyance before, but never to this extent. Her fame – her character – were compromised; for he knew Black Mark to be the very worst description of man for a woman to come in contact with at all, caring nothing for the ties of morality, or for the world's opinion – reckless, bad-hearted, and moreover uncomfortably handsome in the eyes of a lover.

The dance now over, Luke imagined that she would give up her partner and join him; but no, the silly girl seemed proud of her conquest, and to take a sort of mad delight in wounding Luke's feelings to the uttermost. She approached the spot where Luke with folded arms was standing, and leaning familiarly upon the arm of Mark, said laughingly:

"Why don't you dance, Luke? Come, I'll find a partner for you."

Galled to the very quick, Luke answered with asperity – "Thank you, Miss Dwyer, you have found one for yourself, and" – looking at Black Mark, as a jealous lover only can look – "you'll pardon me, but I don't like the sample."

Mark regarded him with a scowl of the deepest malignity, while Kathleen, the real feelings of her heart kept down by coquetry, exclaimed with a laugh: —

"Don't mind him, Mark, he's only jealous, poor fellow. Come, will you not dance again?"

"Aye, and again, and for ever," impetuously replied Mark; "Come."

And as they went to rejoin the dancers, Kathleen caught the expression of Luke's features, and there saw so much misery depicted, that she would have given worlds to have recalled her words. She yearned to implore his forgiveness, but her insatiable appetite for admiration restrained her. "Never mind," thought she, "when the dance is over, I can easily make it up with him," and away she went, thinking no more about it.

At the conclusion of the dance, her better feelings all predominating, she quitted Mark and rushed over to the place where Luke had been standing, but he was gone; with that unfeeling speech rankling in his heart, he had left. It was now her turn to be miserable; not all the soft speeches that were poured into her ear had power to console her, but her annoyance was at its height when Black Mark, presuming upon the encouragement which she had given him, seated himself beside her, and in ardent language declared himself her passionate lover. Poor, unthinking Kathleen, she had evoked a spirit which she had not power to quell.

It was more than a week after, before Luke could bring himself to venture near Kathleen; but finding that each succeeding day only made him still more wretched, he determined to know his fate at once, and with a sorely palpitating heart he neared her abode, lifted the latch, and entered; the first sight that met his eyes was Mark and Kathleen, sitting near to each other, the deep blush that crimsoned her to the very throat, evinced to Luke the interesting nature of their conversation. She could not speak, neither could he, but giving her one look which sank into her very brain, he left the place; in vain she called after him, he turned but once – a deep curse was on his lips but his noble heart refused to sanction it. "Farewell, beloved Kathleen," he cried, while bitter tears flowed fast as he spoke, "May the good God protect you now, for you will need it." And Luke rapidly strode towards the village, inly determining to go to sea on the morrow, and never look upon her or his loved home again.

Meanwhile, Kathleen, apprehensive that he would do something desperate, implored Mark to follow and bring him back. With a contemptuous sneer, he answered, "Do you think I'm a fool? No, no! Kathleen, you've gone too far with me to retract now. The world sees and knows our intimacy; the only barrier to our happiness was your foolish lover, Luke – he has taken the sulks, and gone away – our road is now clear. I love you better than a hundred such milk-sops as he could, so come – say the word!"

"That word," replied Kathleen, firmly, "shall never be said by me."

"Have a care, girl!" fiercely retorted Mark, "I'm not a man to be trifled with; you have led me to believe that you liked me, and you shall redeem the pledge your eyes at least have given."

"Never! Mark Dermot, never!" exclaimed Kathleen, rising from her seat; but with a fierce gesture, and a determined fire in his eye, Mark forced her down again, saying, in a clear, but terribly earnest manner: "Kathleen, from my youth up, I never allowed the slightest wish of my soul to be thwarted; think you that I shall submit to be led or driven, coaxed near, or sent adrift, at the caprice of any living thing? – no! if you can't be mine from love, you shall from fear; for," ratifying his threat by a fearful oath, "no obstacle shall exist between me and my desire."

"What mean you, Mark Dermot?" cried the terrified girl.

"No matter," he replied, "the choice rests with you. You cannot deny that your manner warranted me in soliciting your hand. Remember, love and hate dwell very near each other – the same heart contains them both. Be mine, and every wish of your soul shall be anticipated – refuse me, and tremble at the consequences."

"Heaven forgive, and help me," inly prayed Kathleen, as the result of her weak conduct now made itself so awfully apparent. Thinking to enlist some good feeling from Mark's generosity, she frankly acknowledged to him that her affections were entirely bestowed upon the absent Luke.

She knew not the demon-heart in which she had trusted; instead of inclining him to mercy, her words only inflamed him into tenfold rage.

"Vile woman!" he exclaimed, starting to his feet. "Have you then been making a scoff and jest – a play-thing and a tool of me? Better for you had you raised a fiend than tampered with me thus. How know I that you do not lie, even now, woman-devil? One word for all! – by your eternal hope, who is it that you do love?"

"On my knees – Luke Bryant," fervently said Kathleen.

"Then wo to ye both!" cried Mark, casting her rudely from him, and, with a look of intense hate, rushing from the cottage.

There was a perfect tempest of rage in Mark's breast, as he quitted Kathleen; plans of revenge, deadly and horrible, suggested themselves to him, and he nursed the devilish feeling within his heart until every humanizing thought was swallowed up in the anticipation of a sweeping revenge. On reaching the village, his first care was to find Luke; upon seeing him, he started as though a serpent stood in his path.

"Keep away from me, Mark Dermot," he sternly exclaimed. "If you are come to triumph in your success, be careful, for there may be danger in it."

"Luke," replied the other, in a sad tone, "we are rivals no longer. Nay, listen, I bring you good news, there are not many who would have done this; but what care I now – the fact is, like a sensible man, I am come to proclaim my own failure. Kathleen has refused me."

"She has?"

"As true as I'm alive – rejected me for you, Luke. Nay, as good as told me that she merely flirted with me to fix your chains the tighter. Cunning little devil – eh, Luke? Come, you'll shake hands with me now, I know."

"If I could believe you, Mark," said Luke, the joy dancing in his very eyes.

"I tell you she acknowledged to me that she never could love any one but you. Now am I not a generous rival, to carry his mistress's love to another? She requested me to ask you to call in this morning, if you would have conclusive proof of her sincerity, and you would then find that she could never use you so again. But now 'tis getting late, and as I have delivered my message, I shall leave you to dream of Kathleen and happiness. Good night – be sure and see her in the morning;" and they parted.

Soon afterwards, Luke missed his clasp-knife with which he had been eating his supper, but, after a slight search, thought no more of the matter, his very soul glowing with renewed delight at the thought of seeing his loved one on the morrow – that their differences should be made up, and all again be sunshine.

About an hour after, as he was preparing to retire for the night, it suddenly occurred to him that he would like to take a walk towards Kathleen's cottage – perchance he should see her shadow on the curtain – he might hear her sweet voice – no matter, to gaze upon the home that contained her would at least be something; so off he started in that direction, a happy feeling pervading his every sense. Arrived within sight of her abode, he fancied he heard a stifled groan, but his thoughts, steeped in joy, dwelt not on it. In a moment after, a distinct and fearful scream, as of one in agony, burst on the stillness of the night. It came from the direction of Kathleen's cottage. Inspired with a horrible fear, he ran wildly forward – another, and another terrible scream followed; there was no longer doubt – it was the voice of his Kathleen. With mad desperation, he reached the place just in time to see the figure of a man, who, in the doubtful light, he could not recognize, rush from the door and disappear in darkness. In breathless horror Luke entered. Great Heaven! what a sight met his eyes. His beloved Kathleen lay on the blood-dabbled floor, in the last agony of departing nature, her beating heart pierced with many wounds; she saw and evidently recognized Luke, for 'mid the desperate throes of ebbing life, she clutched his hand in hers, essaying, but in vain, to articulate – she could but smile; her eye glazed over – her hand relaxed its grasp – and with her gentle head resting on his breast, her spirit passed away.

All this was so sudden and fearfully unexpected to Luke, that he scarcely knew 'twas reality, until several of the surrounding neighbors, who had been alarmed by the out-cry, came hastily in.

"See!" cried one, "'Tis as I thought; murder has been done."

"And here is the fatal instrument with which it has been effected," said another, as he picked up a gory knife from the floor. It caught the eye of Luke. "That knife is mine," said he, in the measured tone of one stricken down by terrible calamity.

"Yours?" they all exclaimed at once. "Then you have murdered her?"

Luke only smiled – a ghastly, soul-crushed smile, most awful to look upon at such a time; his heart was too full for words. Reason, which had been dethroned by this unexpected blow, had scarcely yet returned to its seat, for all unconsciously he still held the lifeless form tightly clasped in his arms, gazing, with a sort of stony expression, upon the face of her who had been to him the world.

It was not until they approached to seize him for killing her, that he seemed to be thoroughly aware of his position.

"What would you do, friends?" said he, mournfully, as they endeavored to force him away. "Would you deny me the sad comfort of dying in her presence?"

"Have you not murdered her, wretch?" cried one of the by-standers.

"What! – murder her– God in heaven forbid," he exclaimed.

"Is not this your knife?"

"It is!"

"And how came it here – if not used by you – in this unknown manner?"

"It was stolen from me by that arch-demon, Mark Dermot," said Luke, shuddering to the very heart, as he mentioned that name.

"That has got to be proved," cried one of the crowd, who happened to be a friend of Mark's, "we can't take your bare word for it. Let him be secured."

But Luke needed no securing. Listlessly he suffered them to pinion his arms; and in the same room with the precious casket which once contained his heart's treasure, he abided the remainder of the night, in a state of mental torture utterly incapable of being rendered into words.

The morning after this awful occurrence, a coroner's jury was summoned, and the identity of the knife having been proved, added to his own admission, and the fact of his having had a quarrel with her the day before being testified to, every circumstance tended to fix the guilt upon him; a verdict was delivered accordingly, and Luke Bryant stood charged with the murder of one for whom he would willingly have shed his last drop of blood.

With a degree of effrontery consonant with his general character, Black Mark made his appearance amongst the spectators who attended the inquiry, and was loudest in denunciation against the supposed criminal. It only remained now for the accused, who had been removed during the inquest, to be brought into the chamber of death, previously to the warrant being drawn out for his final committal, to be tried at the ensuing quarter sessions. He was conducted into the room; with a listless, apathetic gaze he looked around him mechanically, for he cared not now what fate might do to him, when suddenly his eyes rested on Mark Dermot. The consciousness of everything that had taken place seemed all to flash through his brain at once.

"Murderer!" he cried. "Can it be that Heaven's lightning slumbers! Friends! – behold that fiend; who, not content with the life's blood of one victim, now comes to triumph in a double murder!"

"What means the fool?" contemptuously exclaimed Mark. "Does he suppose that reasoning men will credit his ravings, or help him to shift his load of crime upon another's shoulders?"

"As I am a living man – as there is a just God who knows the secrets of all hearts, there stands the murderer, Mark Dermot!" solemnly replied Luke. "It is not for myself I care, for Heaven knows that I would rather die than bear about this load of misery; but that he should brave the angels with a shameless brow, he whose hands are crimsoned with her precious blood – it is too much! – too much!"

"Then, Luke Bryant," said the coroner, "you deny having committed this crime?"

"On my knees – before the throne of mercy – I do!"

"I trust, then, that you may cause a jury of your countrymen to believe so; but for me, I have only one duty to perform, and circumstances clearly bear me out in my assumption. I must send you to trial!"

At this juncture, one of the jurymen, who thought he could perceive a meaning in Mark's peculiar, ill-concealed glance of savage delight, begged to be heard: keeping his eye steadily fixed on Mark's face, he said, with solemnity:

"When the judgment of man is in perplexity as to the author of crimes like these, the aid of Heaven may well be solicited, that it might be mercifully pleased to give some indication by which the innocent might be prevented from suffering for the guilty. We have an old tradition here, that if the accused lays his right hand upon the breast of the corpse, swearing upon the Holy Gospel that he had no act or part in the deed, speaking truly, no results will follow; but if he swears falsely, the dead itself will testify against him; for the closed wounds will re-open their bloody mouths, and to the confusion of the guilty one, the stream of life will flow once more for a short space! It seems to me that this is a case in which The Test of Blood might be applied not vainly."

"Willingly! – most willingly will I abide the test," exclaimed Luke.

"And you?" said the juror, with a penetrating glance at Mark.

"I!" said the latter, with an attempt at recklessness, "What is it to me? – why should I be subject to such mummery – who accuses me?"

"I do!" thundered Luke, "and I now insist upon his going through the trial – myself will point out the way." So saying, he approached the lifeless body, and sinking on his knees, laid his right hand reverently on the heart, saying —

"My blessed angel! if thy spirit lingers near, thou knowest that this hand would rather let my life-blood forth, than offer thee the shadow of an injury!"

They waited an instant – all was quiet; meantime, Mark, persuading himself that it was but a form, and yet trembling to the very core, advanced. All eyes were upon him; he paused – cast a glance around, and grinding his teeth savagely, cried out:

"Why do you all fix your gaze on me? I'm not afraid to do this piece of folly." He advanced another step – again he hesitated; heartless – brutal – though he was, the spell of a mighty dread was on his soul. His face grew livid; the blood started from his lips; large round drops burst from his forehead and rolled down his ashy cheeks. At last, with a tremendous effort, he knelt, and attempted to stretch forth his hand – it seemed glued to his side. Starting to his feet again, he cried fiercely:

"I will not do it – why should I?"

"You cannot! – you dare not!" solemnly ejaculated Luke. "If you are guiltless, why should you fear?"

"Fear!" screamed the other, "I fear neither man nor devil – dead nor living," suddenly placing his hand upon the breast of the dead!

"See – see!" cried Luke, wildly, "the blood mounts up – it overflows!"

"It's a lie!" madly exclaimed Mark.

But it was no lie; the ruddy stream welled upward through those gaping wounds, and flowed once more adown her snowy breast, a murmur of awe and surprise breaking from the assembled group; whilst shivering to the very heart, the terrors of discovered guilt and despair seized upon Mark.

"Curse ye all!" he roared. "You would juggle my life away; but you shall find I will not part with it so readily." Hastily drawing a pistol, it was instantly wrested from him. Several of the bystanders flung themselves upon him; but the desperate resistance which he made, added to the frightful internal agony which he had just endured, caused him to break a blood-vessel; and in raving delirium, the hardened sinner's soul wended to its last account in the presence of those whom, in his reckless villainy, he had expected to destroy.

Wonder succeeded wonder; and the mystery was soon discovered to be no mystery at all, but the natural instrument in the hands of Providence to confound the guilty. As relapsing into his former listlessness, Luke was intently gazing on the body of his beloved, suddenly his heart gave one tremendous throb.

"Hush!" he exclaimed, with anxious, trembling voice; "For Heaven's love, be silent for an instant! I thought I heard a sound like – Ha! there it is again – a gasp – a gentle sob, and scarcely audible, but distinct as thunder within my soul – there's warmth about her breast – her eyelids tremble. The God of Mercy be thanked! – she lives – she lives!" and Luke sunk upon his knees; a copious flood of tears, the first he had ever shed, relieved his overcharged feelings.

It was true – she did live; from loss of blood only had she fainted, and the excessive weakness had thus far prolonged the insensibility; none of the stabs had reached a vital part, and it was the first effort of nature to resume its suspended functions which had caused the blood once more to circulate, just at the instant which so signally established the guilt of the intended murderer.

It only remains for me to say that Mark Dermot's previous bad character prevented much sympathy being felt for a fate so well deserved. In process of time Luke's devoted love was well rewarded. Kathleen recovered from the effects of her wounds – gave him her hand, and profiting by the terrible lesson which she had received, made an estimable, virtuous, and affectionate wife.