The Clansman Part 50

"Why, Ben!" Marion gasped, placing her trembling hand unconsciously on his arm, a faint flush mantling her cheek and leaving it white.

"What do you mean?" asked the mother in low tones.

"Nothing that I can explain. I only wish to warn you both never to ask me such questions before any one."

"Forgive me," said Marion, with a tremor. "I didn't think it serious."

Ben pressed the little warm hand, watching her mouth quiver with a smile that was half a sigh, as he answered:

"You know I'd trust either of you with my life, but I can't be too careful."

"We'll remember, Sir Knight," said the mother. "Don't forget, then, to-morrow--and spend the evening with us. I wish I had one of Marion's new dresses done. Poor child, she has never had a decent dress in her life before. You know I never look at my pretty baby grown to such a beautiful womanhood without hearing Henry say over and over again--'Beauty is a sign of the soul--the body is the soul!'"

"Well, I've my doubts about your improving her with a fine dress," he replied thoughtfully. "I don't believe that more beautifully dressed women ever walked the earth than our girls of the South who came out of the war clad in the pathos of poverty, smiling bravely through the shadows, bearing themselves as queens though they wore the dress of the shepherdess."

"I'm almost tempted to kiss you for that, as you once took advantage of me!" said Marion, with enthusiasm.

The moon had risen and a whippoorwill was chanting his weird song on the lawn as Ben left them leaning on the gate.

It was past midnight before they finished the last touches in restoring their nest to its old homelike appearance and sat down happy and tired in the room in which Marion was born, brooding and dreaming and talking over the future.

The mother was hanging on the words of her daughter, all the baffled love of the dead poet husband, her griefs and poverty consumed in the glowing joy of new hopes. Her love for this child was now a triumphant pa.s.sion, which had melted her own being into the object of worship, until the soul of the daughter was superimposed on the mother's as the magnetized by the magnetizer.

"And you'll never keep a secret from me, dear?" she asked Marion.

"Never."

"You'll tell me all your love affairs?" she asked softly, as she drew the shining blonde head down on her shoulder.

"Faithfully."

"You know I've been afraid sometimes you were keeping something back from me, deep down in your heart--and I'm jealous. You didn't refuse Henry Grier because you loved Ben Cameron--now, did you?"

The little head lay still before she answered:

[Ill.u.s.tration: MAE MARSH AS THE VICTIM OF RECONSTRUCTION.]

"How many times must I tell you, Silly, that I've loved Ben since I can remember, that I will always love him, and when I meet my fate, at last, I shall boast to my children of my sweet girl romance with the Hero of Piedmont, and they shall laugh and cry with me over----"

"What's that?" whispered the mother, leaping to her feet.

"I heard nothing," Marion answered, listening.

"I thought I heard footsteps on the porch."

"Maybe it's Ben, who decided to come anyhow," said the girl.

"But he'd knock!" whispered the mother.

The door flew open with a crash, and four black brutes leaped into the room, Gus in the lead, with a revolver in his hand, his yellow teeth grinning through his thick lips.

"Scream now, an' I blow yer brains out," he growled.

Blanched with horror, the mother sprang before Marion with a shivering cry:

"What do you want?"

"Not you," said Gus, closing the blinds and handing a rope to another brute. "Tie de ole one ter de bedpost."

The mother screamed. A blow from a black fist in her mouth, and the rope was tied.

With the strength of despair she tore at the cords, half rising to her feet, while with mortal anguish she gasped:

"For G.o.d's sake, spare my baby! Do as you will with me, and kill me--do not touch her!"

Again the huge fist swept her to the floor.

Marion staggered against the wall, her face white, her delicate lips trembling with the chill of a fear colder than death.

"We have no money--the deed has not been delivered," she pleaded, a sudden glimmer of hope flashing in her blue eyes.

Gus stepped closer, with an ugly leer, his flat nose dilated, his sinister bead eyes wide apart, gleaming apelike, as he laughed:

"We ain't atter money!"

The girl uttered a cry, long, tremulous, heart-rending, piteous.

A single tiger spring, and the black claws of the beast sank into the soft white throat and she was still.

CHAPTER XII

AT THE DAWN OF DAY

It was three o'clock before Marion regained consciousness, crawled to her mother, and crouched in dumb convulsions in her arms.

"What can we do, my darling?" the mother asked at last.

"Die--thank G.o.d, we have the strength left!"

"Yes, my love," was the faint answer.

"No one must ever know. We will hide quickly every trace of crime. They will think we strolled to Lover's Leap and fell over the cliff, and my name will always be sweet and clean--you understand--come, we must hurry----"