The Bunsby papers Part 14

"Learn to forgive, Gerald Desmond, and condescend to accept a lesson from your inferior. Farewell," and ere the other could reply, maddened as he was by rage and mortification, he was gone.

"The ruffian!" savagely exclaimed Gerald. "If I don't wring his heart for this may I inherit everlasting torture."

How he fulfilled his oath we shall see in time.

In no very enviable mood, Frank Carolan sought his humble home; bitterly he repented ever having known Desmond, and firmly he resolved to give up all acquaintance which had grown out of this a.s.sociation, and depend for the future upon his own honest exertions. Brave resolve, seriously and sacredly intended at the time, as all good resolutions usually are.

The only being that Frank cared for in the world was his sister Mary--a bright and beautiful young creature, just bursting into womanhood, graceful as a wild fawn, and as timid; unselfishly and wholly, with a most absorbing love, he loved _her_. Upon reaching home, he found her in tears, grieving for his prolonged absence, for it was early morning; but the moment he appeared, the rain-drops of sorrow fled, and joy's own bright ray sparkled in her face once more.

"Where have you been so late, dear Frank?" she murmured, as he kissed her dewy eyes.

"Where, I solemnly promise, my own Mary, never to go again."

"You were with Gerald Desmond, were you not?"

"I was! But he and I are brothers, friends, no longer."

"The saints be praised for it," fervently cried his sister. "There is something about Desmond's eyes that frightens me. 'Tis good for neither of us that he should be too near."

"Has he been here, Mary?"

"Oh! yes, several times, but only to inquire for you," she added, hastily.

"You must avoid him, Mary, for he is a serpent; there's a fascination about that man that even I cannot resist. He has destroyed me; lured me from my contented humbleness to taste of luxury; and now, like the beast which has once drunk of blood, 'twill be hard for me to avoid the seductive banquet. Shun him, Mary, for your brother's sake."

"Dear Frank, doubt me not," firmly replied Mary. "If you do fear my womanly weakness, I here swear, by this blessed _Gospel Charm_ my mother placed around my neck, before she died, never to do the deed which shall cause her spirit to frown, or my brother's cheek to glow with shame."

"My bright-eyed, beautiful Mary, I believe you. G.o.d bless you, core of my heart; 'tis for your well-doing only I exist," fervently exclaimed Frank. "Go to your rest, darling; 'tis the last time it shall be broken by me; to-morrow shall find me a new man. Good night."

Mary retired, and her brother felt relieved at heart, for a more solemn oath could not be imagined than that which she had sworn. The Gospel Charm, which consists of a text from Scripture, selected and consecrated by the priest, is held to be of peculiar efficacy, and a promise made by it is scarcely ever known to be broken.

No man ever went to bed with a more fixed determination to begin a new and better life on the morrow than did Frank, and yet that very morrow saw his resolution shaken, nay, altogether abandoned. During the night a plan of terrible revenge had been conceived by Gerald Desmond, and to carry out his design, it was necessary that the breach between him and Frank should be apparently healed up.

Frank began the day well, cultivating his little farm, inly rejoicing in his emanc.i.p.ation from evil society, and glowing with that proud self gratification which the exercise of industrious habits ever produces.

In the midst of this happy feeling, who should he perceive but Gerald Desmond rapidly approaching? His first impulse was, as usual, right. "I will not listen to him," he thought, retiring in an opposite direction, when he was arrested by the hilarious voice of Gerald calling to him:

"Frank, my friend! my brother, will you not forgive?"

The tones reached into his inmost heart; he paused for an instant, but 'twas enough--Gerald reached him, and, looking cordially in his face, held forth his hand. Frank grasped it earnestly, and ere many moments had elapsed their friendship was renewed, with full sincerity by one, and crafty dissimulation by the other. Alas for good intentions, when una.s.sisted by Heaven's pardoning grace! The vitiating practices of former days were again indulged in, and all Frank's so seemingly virtuous resolutions were drowned in the accursed, soul-enslaving drink.

Some few days after this reconciliation, Gerald took Frank aside, and having first bound him to secrecy, thus began to unfold his design.

"Frank, my boy," said he, "I am in great need of your a.s.sistance; will you give it to me?"

"That will I, Gerald," uttered Frank, "with all my heart."

"Nay, but you must promise to do so, even though against your inclination; it is a matter of the most vital moment to me?"

"If I _can_ help you, I will."

"Say that you will, for I know you can."

"Well, then, I will, whatever it is."

"Enough. Then you must know that I have a little affair of the heart."

"Another?"

"The last, as I am a true lover; all I want you to do is to write a note for me. I am fearful that my own hand-writing would be known, added to which, I have disabled my fingers by an accident."

"Yes, but may I not know who the object is?" inquired Frank.

"Come, come, you wouldn't ask that. It would be dishonorable in me to tell you; suffice it to say that she is a lovely creature, young, innocent, and confiding. I have everything arranged to carry her off this very night."

"You mean to marry her, of course?" said Frank, seriously.

"Marry?" laughingly replied Gerald; "come, that's a devilish good joke; do you see any symptoms of insanity about me? No, no, I mean to honor her with my society for a few months, and then"----

"Then cast her off, to the scorn of an uncharitable world. Gerald, friend, pause a moment, think! I know your heart is not entirely rotten."

"My dear fellow, I have thought, reasoned with myself, but all to no avail; one word for all. 'Tis necessary to my happiness that I should possess this girl. You pretend to be my friend; will you prove it by doing this small service for me?"

Good intent said no, but irresolution stepped in as usual, and all was lost.

"Dictate," said Frank, sadly; "'tis sorely against my inclination, but rather than you should doubt my friendship, I _will_ do it."

"Good fellow," delightedly exclaimed Gerald; "now, let me see; we must use stratagem. Begin--

"'Dear Mary.'"

At the mention of that name, Frank gave an involuntary shudder. He looked straight into the eyes of Gerald, but they returned his gaze without a change of expression, and the monstrous thought was smothered in its birth.

"Have you written 'Dear Mary?'" said Gerald, calmly.

"I have! go on."

"'Business of a sudden and imperative nature calls me away. I shall need your presence and advice; trust yourself unhesitatingly to the man who delivers this; he is my dearest friend.'"

"Whom is this supposed to come from?" inquired Frank.

"Oh," said Gerald, carelessly, "from her brother."

"Her brother! has she then a brother? G.o.d in heaven help _him_! Ah!

Gerald, this is frightful; let me entreat of you to abandon your intent; think of the load of misery the indulgence of one evanescent, selfish gratification will entail on all this poor girl's friends;" and Frank knelt and took Gerald's hand in his. For an instant, all the good in the heart of the latter floated to the surface, but he thought of the degradation he had endured, and revenge sank it down again.

"Come, come," he cried, "no more sermons if you please; you have obliged me so much that I can scarcely tell you, and now remain here until I return. I shall not be long; there's a bottle of Inishowen, sugar, lemons, and hot water; make yourself quite at home. Depend upon it, you shall soon be amply repaid for all you have done for me." So saying, he went out, and Frank was left alone.