The Missing Bride Part 34

"Beyond human help! Eh! what? Nace! No! no! no! no! It can't be!" said the old man, kneeling down, and bending over him in helpless trouble.

"Attend Dr. Grimshaw, while I hurry out and see what can be done, Mary," said Mrs. Waugh, resigning her charge, and then hastening from the room. She soon returned, bringing with her such remedies as her limited knowledge suggested. And she and Mary L'Oiseau applied them; but in vain! Every effort for his relief seemed but to hasten his death. The hemorrhage was subsiding; so also was his breath. "It is too late; he is dying!" said Henrietta, solemnly.

"Dying! No, no, Nace! Nace! speak to me! Nace! you're not dying! I've lost more blood than that in my time! Nace! Nace! speak to your old--speak, Nace!" cried the commodore, stooping down and raising the sufferer in his arms, and gazing, half wildly, half stupidly, at the congealing face.

He continued thus for some moments, until Mrs. Waugh, putting her hand upon his shoulder, said gravely and kindly:

"Lay him down, Commodore Waugh; he is gone."

"Gone! gone!" echoed the old man, in his imbecile distraction, and dropped his gray head upon the corpse, and groaned aloud.

Mrs. Waugh came and laid her hand affectionately on his shoulder. He looked up in such hopeless, helpless trouble, and cried out:

"Oh, Henrietta! he was my son--my only, only son! My poor, unowned boy!

Oh, Henrietta! is he dead? Are you sure? Is he quite gone?"

"He is gone, Commodore Waugh; lay him down; come away to your room,"

said Henrietta, gently taking his hand.

Jacquelina, white with horror, was kneeling with clasped hands and dilated eyes, gazing at the ruin. The old man's glance fell upon her there, and his pa.s.sion changed from grief to fury. Fiercely he broke forth:

"It was you! You are the murderess--you! Heaven's vengeance light upon you!"

"Oh, I never meant it! I never meant it! I am very wretched! I wish I'd never been born!" cried Jacquelina, wringing her pale fingers.

"Out of my sight, you curse! Out of my sight--and may Heaven's wrath pursue you!" thundered the commodore, shaking with grief and rage.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE BODY ON THE BEACH.

In the meanwhile, where was he whose headlong pa.s.sions had precipitated this catastrophe? where was Thurston? After having parted with his confederate, he hurried home, for a very busy day lay before him. To account for his sudden departure, and long absence, and to cover his retreat, it was necessary to have some excuse, such as a peremptory summons to Baltimore upon the most important business. Once in that city, he would have leisure to find some further apology for proceeding directly to France without first returning home. Now, strange as it may appear, though his purposed treachery to Marian wrung his bosom with remorse whenever he paused to think of it, yet it was the remorse without humiliation; for he persuaded himself that stratagem was fair in love as in war, especially in his case with Marian, who had already given him her hand; but now the unforseen necessity of these subterfuges made his cheek burn. He hastened to Dell-Delight, and showing the old man a letter he had that morning received from the city, informed him that he was obliged to depart immediately, upon affairs of the most urgent moment to him, and then, to escape the sharp stings of self-scorn, he busied himself with arranging his papers, packing his trunks and ordering his servants. His baggage was packed into and behind the old family carriage, and having completed his preparations about one o'clock, he entered it, and was driven rapidly to the village.

The schooner was already at the wharf and waiting for him. Thurston met many of his friends in the village, and in an off-hand manner explained to them the ostensible cause of his journey. And thus, in open daylight, gayly chatting with his friends, Thurston superintended the embarkation of his baggage. And it was not until one by one they had shaken hands with him, wished him a good voyage and departed, that Thurston found himself alone with the captain in the cabin.

"Now you know, Miles, that I have not come on board to remain. When the coast is clear I shall go on sh.o.r.e, get in the carriage, and return to Dell-Delight. I must meet my wife on the beach. I must remain with her through all. I must take her on board. You will be off Pine Bluff just at dusk, captain?"

"Ay, ay, sir."

"You will not be a moment behind hand?"

"Trust me for that, Cap'n."

"See if the people have left."

The skipper went on deck and returned to report the coast clear.

Thurston then went on sh.o.r.e, entered the carriage, and was driven homeward.

It was nearly four o'clock when he reached Dell-Delight, and there he found the whole premises in a state of confusion. Several negroes were on the lookout for him; and as soon as they saw him ran to the house.

"What is the meaning of all this?" he inquired, detaining one of the hindmost.

"Oh, Ma.r.s.e Thuster, sir! oh, sir!" exclaimed the boy, rolling his eyes quite wildly.

"What is the matter with the fool?"

"Oh, sir; my poor ole ma.r.s.e! my poor ole ma.r.s.e!"

"What has happened to your master? Can't you be plain, sir?"

"Oh, Ma.r.s.e Thuster, sir! he done fell down inter a fit, an had to be toted off to bed."

"A fit! good heavens! has a doctor been summoned?" exclaimed Thurston, springing from his seat.

"Oh, yes, sir! Jase be done gone arter de doctor."

Thurston stopped to inquire no farther, but ran into the house and up into his grandfather's chamber.

There a distressing scene met his eyes. The old man, with his limbs distorted, and his face swollen and discolored, lay in a state of insensibility upon the bed. Two or three negro women were gathered around him, variously occupied with rubbing his hands, chafing his temples and wiping the oozing foam from his lips. At the foot of the bed stood poor daft f.a.n.n.y, with disheveled hair and dilated eyes, chanting a grotesque monologue, and keeping time with a see-saw motion from side to side. The first thing Thurston did, was to take the hand of this poor crazed, but docile creature, and lead her from the sick-room up into her own. He bade her remain there, and then returned to his grandfather's bedside. In reply to his anxious questioning, he was informed that the old man had fallen into a fit about an hour before--that a boy had been instantly sent for the doctor, and the patient carried to bed; but that he had not spoken since they laid him there. It would yet be an hour before the doctor could possibly arrive, and the state of the patient demanded instant attention.

And withal Thurston was growing very anxious upon Marian's account. The sun was now sinking under a dark bank of clouds. The hour of his appointed meeting with her was approaching. He felt, of course, that his scheme must for the present be deferred--even if its accomplishment should again seem necessary, which was scarcely possible. But Marian would expect him. And how should he prevent her coming to the beach and waiting for him there? He did not know where a message would most likely now to find her, whether at Luckenough, at Old Fields or at Colonel Thornton's. But he momentarily expected the arrival of Dr. Brightwell, and he resolved to leave that good man in attendance at the sick bed, while he himself should escape for a few hours; and hurry to the beach to meet and have an explanation with his wife.

But an hour pa.s.sed, and the doctor did not come.

Thurston's eyes wandered anxiously from the distorted face of the dying man before him, to the window that commanded the approach to the house.

But no sign of the doctor was to be seen.

The sun was on the very edge of the horizon. The sufferer before him was evidently approaching his end. Marian he knew must be on her way to the beach. And a dreadful storm was rising.

His anxiety reached fever heat.

He could not leave the bedside of his dying relative, yet Marian must not be permitted to wait upon the beach, exposed to the fierceness of the storm, or worse the rudeness of his own confederates.

He took a sudden resolution, and wondered that he had not done so before. He resolved to summon Marian as his wife to his home.

Full of this thought, he hastened down stairs and ordered Melchizedek to put the horse to the gig and get ready to go an errand. And while the boy was obeying his directions, Thurston penned the following lines to Marian:

"My dear Marian--my dear, generous, long-suffering wife--come to my aid.

My grandfather has been suddenly stricken down with apoplexy, and is dying. The physician has not yet arrived, and I cannot leave his bedside. Return with my messenger, to a.s.sist me in taking care of the dying man. You, who are the angel of the sick and suffering, will not refuse me your aid. Come, never to leave me more! Our marriage shall be acknowledged to-morrow, to-night, any time, that you in your nicer judgment, shall approve. Come! let nothing hinder you. I will send a message to Edith to set her anxiety at rest, or I will send for her to be with you here. Come to me, beloved Marian. Dictate your own conditions if you will--only come."

He had scarcely sealed this note, when the boy, hat in hand, appeared at the door.

"Take this note, sir, jump in the gig and drive as fast as possible to the beach below Pine Bluffs. You will see Miss Mayfield waiting there, give her this note, and then--await her orders. Be quicker than you ever were before," said Thurston, hurrying his messenger off.