Zula Part 41

"Yes, as sure as there is a heaven."

"Oh, oh," screamed Bessie, "those were the very words he said, and I would not believe you now, anyway. If you say _she shall not tell_, I will let her listen if she wants to," she said, turning to Blanche.

"Very well, go on then, I will make her keep the secret."

"Well; let me see if Ross is listening."

"No, no; he is sound asleep, and the wind is blowing, oh so hard. How it shrieks as it goes down the old well-curb. Did you ever hear it?"

"Yes, I can hear it. Don't it sound nice?"

"Sounds nice? You are mad. They have to kill mad people or lock them up. And you say it sounds nice. Why, it sounds just like the wail my poor baby gave the night it died. That wail comes right from the grave. You never saw my baby's grave, did you?"

"Your baby," Blanche repeated, her curiosity aroused.

"Why, yes, my own little baby. You think I am telling you a crazy story, but you must come some day, when the sun shines, and see where she sleeps. Oh, she was beautiful--a little angel, and she was all my own till G.o.d took her, and now she is out there under the ground. But I don't believe the storm can get down where she is, do you, Miss Robin?"

"Oh, no," Blanche answered, wondering why Bessie had given her such a name. "No, your baby is safe, I am sure; but you did not tell me your baby's name."

"No, no. I can't tell you her name, but I will tell you all about him.

You see I went away to boarding school, and it was while I was there I met him. I can't begin to tell you how handsome he was."

Miss Elsworth fancied she saw tears on Bessie's long dark lashes, and the deep, fiery look in the eyes had given place to one of extreme sadness.

"Oh, you would not blame me if you knew--he was handsome--he said he loved me. He called me his little dove, and, oh, how happy I was to think that such a grand man should love me, a little schoolgirl. Hark, listen to the wind, how it moans, moans, moans, in such a sad, sad way, over my baby's grave. Don't you hear it?" she asked, coming closer to Blanche, and grasping her hand. "Don't you hear it call my name? No, you do not hear my baby, for she is down deep under the ground, with the little dark rings of hair lying all about her little white face. You can't see her, but I can, and I shall see her till I go there too."

Miss Elsworth stroked the damp hair that clung around Bessie's forehead.

"Poor girl," she said.

"You pity me, don't you?" Bessie said, looking up in Blanche's face, as though she could read her answer there. "I know you will not lock me up."

"Yes, Bessie, I do pity you, and I wish you would tell me what made you----"

"There, don't you say it, too, I'm not crazy. I am just tired of waiting. He told me he would come back, but he never came, and when I found that I was left alone, then I began to grow so tired, so tired of waiting. But I will not tell you his name, because--when Ross sees him he will kill him."

"But I will not kill him."

"Yes, you will, and then they will all be glad, but the wind must not know it, for it might fly away and tell him, and then I cannot have my revenge. Now, if you tell I will take your head right off, too."

"The wind shall not know it," said Blanche, stroking Bessie's hair, and speaking in a kindly way.

"Hark," said Bessie, as the old wild light came back to her eyes.

"They are trying to get in; they want to hear what I am telling you, but they shall not; now listen. When I find him I am going to shoot his head right off. You see all the ghosts from the graveyard away out there on the hill came down one night when it rained just like this, only the thunder rolled away over the hills, and made me laugh, ha, ha, ha! Oh, how I laughed to hear the big thunder crash right down on my head, and then all the ghosts stood around, clapping their bony hands, and laughed too."

"La me, I don't believe I can stand this another minute," said Mrs.

Morris.

"Oh, I just wish you had seen what a wild, wild time we had out there in the storm," said Bessie, with another burst of laughter. "How the rain came down, and beat upon our heads, and the thunder crashed among the hills, and the lightning danced, keeping time to the music we made with our laughter, and the skull of every ghost was nodding and grinning in the darkness, and then it was they gathered about me, and made me swear, by all the spirits of the dead who were lying in their graves--swear by the spirit of my little dead baby that I would take the stain from my name; that I would take away the heartaches that I had made, and make my mother smile again. Oh, I was glad that they told me I must swear, but you can't guess how."

"No," said Blanche, growing more and more interested.

"Why, you see they carried me in their long, bony arms, away up through the storm, up to the graveyard, and they put me on a grave, and gathered all about me, and they made me swear that I would shoot him until he was dead, and if you take my pistol away the ghosts will stay right by you till you give it up. I will kill him. Let me show you how."

"Never mind to-night," said Blanche, growing a little uneasy.

"But I will shoot."

"Dear, dear, I never was no coward, but I can't stand all this, and I'd rather be out in the biggest kind of a storm than to be pestered in this way, and if you ain't afraid I'll go somewhere, you know,"

said Mrs. Morris.

"Oh, let her go and find the ghosts," said Bessie. "I'm not afraid of you, Miss Robin, for I know you are not crazy, even if they do say you are; but, you see, robins never hurt any one; just let her go. She is a coward anyway."

Mrs. Morris wrapped herself in a thick shawl and hood, and, starting by the way of a path that led through the meadow, she hurried along as fast as the darkness would allow, until she reached the house of Mr.

Graves, when she informed them of Bessie's visit.

"Why," said Eliza, "I was in her room not two hours ago, and left her fast asleep. She must have gone out of the window, and down the porch, but I do not see how she could do it on such a night as this."

"Crazy lunatics will think of plenty of cunning things," said Mrs.

Morris; "you jest ought to hear the stuff she's been a-tellin'. Of course we don't believe a word of it; 'cause it's likely she don't know what she's a-talkin' about."

"No," Mrs. Graves said, in a trembling voice, and wiping the tears from her eyes; "no, she does not know what she is saying."

"It makes it dreadful bad for you folks 'cause I s'pose it keeps you a-worryin'."

There was no reply to the last remark made by Mrs. Morris, and seeing that Ross was about to start after Bessie, she availed herself of his company back home. Ross was the one of all the household who could manage Bessie with the least trouble. If she became wilful Ross was the one who could control her in a quiet way. If she became sullen or sad Ross alone could cheer her, and thus when there was anything wrong with Bessie Ross knew his duty, and never waited to be called upon to perform it, so he hurried out in the chilling storm.

"Now, Miss Robin," said Bessie, as the door closed after Mrs. Morris, "I am glad she is gone, for there is one thing I don't want her to know. Ross would kill me if I should tell of it, but you see he tries to make folks think he is my brother. But he is not my brother, and you need not let him make you think he is."

"Who is he then?" Blanche asked, her brain fairly throbbing with the thoughts of the whole affair.

"Oh, I will never tell even you. You cannot make me tell that, but some day when G.o.d calls all the wicked people to account, then maybe He will tell you all about it. But, hush, don't let Ross know I told you about my baby. If you do he will kill me; he will tell you he is my brother, too, but don't you believe him."

In vain Blanche tried to induce Bessie to tell her more of Ross. She firmly refused, and after several moments of stolid silence, she buried her face in her hands, and, laying her head in Miss Elsworth's lap, she fell into a pa.s.sionate fit of weeping, calling in the most pitiful tones for her two beautiful darlings, who were out in the storm, and not until Ross entered to take her away, did she cease her wild weeping, but at the first sound of his voice she arose, and quickly drying her eyes, she said in a hurried manner:

"Yes, Ross, I'll go. I won't run away again. Don't lock me up, I did not tell all about it."

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE FORTUNE TELLER.

Mr. Le Moyne was holding an interview with Scott. He had gradually acquired the belief that what Scott Wilmer could not accomplish, could not be done by anyone, and since the desired end had not been brought about he had nearly given up in despair.

"I am about discouraged," he said, "for I can see no possible way out, can you, Mr. Wilmer?"