Zula Part 56

"My G.o.d!" he said. "It is--it is her betrayer. Bessie, poor Bessie!

You have saved me the deed that I swore to perform."

Bessie had followed closely behind Ross, and going toward him she said:

"Oh, Ross, ain't you glad I killed him?"

"Yes--oh, I hardly know, Bessie, whether I am glad or not. Poor little sister, I am so sorry for you."

"Oh, don't pity me, Ross. I told the ghosts I'd kill him, and I'm so glad he came."

"Hush, Bessie."

"Ha! ha! ha! I don't care, I can kill him again if I choose."

She stepped softly toward the bed, and throwing back the heavy ma.s.s of dusky hair, she raised her white hands above her head, and with her wild eyes fixed upon the face of the man before her she said:

"It is too bad to lie there that way. But just wait; to-night the ghosts will come and they will stand all about your bed and you will hear them laugh, and oh, how they will shriek and groan, and they will take you in their long, bony arms, just the way they did me, and carry you away out in the storm, and then they will set you down on your baby's grave."

"Take her away," said the wounded man.

"Ah, they can't take me away. I mean to stay here just as long as I want to, and I will tell you such nice long stories about the ghosts."

The man turned upon his pillow and tried to avoid the sight of Bessie's face, but she leaned over the bed, and looking straight into his eyes, she said: "Don't you think I am as beautiful as I was in those days--the days that you loved me so, and called me your darling Bessie? You remember, don't you? It was long, long ago; long before my baby died."

"Oh, Bessie, keep still."

"No, I won't; I'm going to tell you all about it."

"Then I shall leave you."

"Ha! ha!" laughed Bessie, "you see you can't do that. You left me once, but you can't get up now, and the ghosts are coming by and by to hold you down and then they will grin and nod their heads while I tell you all about a woman betrayed."

"Bessie, come with me," said Blanche.

"Miss Robin, keep still. I will not go."

"Take her away," said the wounded man impatiently.

"Let her remain," said Ross, in a hard, cold voice. "The time has come for your coward heart to bow to the will of a weak woman. I would not take advantage of you in your helpless state, but Bessie has the right, if she but had the power to tear your heart from your body."

"Who are you that dares to insult me?" said the man, trying to rise.

"I am her brother. Poor innocent Bessie; you would better have murdered her than to have flattered and deceived her the way you did."

"He said he loved me," said Bessie.

"Mr. Graves, are you not afraid you will injure the man?" Miss Elsworth asked.

"Injure him!" Ross repeated sneeringly. "Could I injure him enough to repay him for the ruin he has wrought in our home? No, his miserable soul is not worth a place in the world, and death is not half enough punishment for him."

"Please, Mr. Graves, do not get so excited."

Ross Graves looked down at the lovely face beside him, and the look of bitter hatred on his own melted to one of extreme sadness, and as the physician entered he turned and left the room. A careful examination was made, but the ball which had entered the man's side, could not be found, and the physician gave as his opinion that recovery was doubtful.

Mrs. Morris had summoned sufficient courage to enter the house, and stepping cautiously toward the bed, she looked steadily into the face of the wounded man, and then a pitiful cry escaped her lips.

"Oh, my boy! my boy!" she shrieked. "I have found you at last! Oh dear, oh dear, and you have come here to be shot by that crazy lunatic!"

"Come, old lady, don't take on so; it's bad enough to be shot without having such goings on as this about it."

"Oh, my poor boy, after huntin' all over the world for you, and to find you like this is the awfullest thing that ever was. What made you stay away so long? I was in hopes you'd come back and take care of me, but of course they ain't so much need of it now, 'cause the deacon, he'll do that; but oh dear, oh dear."

"Mrs. Morris, you had better take Bessie and go away for a while,"

said Miss Elsworth.

"Why, you don't s'pose I could go out with that crazy lunatic, do you?

Why, she'd be takin' my head off, too."

"Bessie, come."

It was Ross calling her and she ran out of the door and skipped away over the meadow toward her home.

"Oh, Charley, my boy, tell me all about it. Where did you stay all the while, and did not come to your poor mother that was jest layin'

awake o' nights on account of you?"

"Now, say, old woman, what the deuce is the sense of you taking on so?

You can't do any good, and where's the use of you making all that fuss?"

"La me, I never thought that o' you, Charley."

"You see there is lots of things you never thought of, and this is one of them."

"But, Charley, s'pose you'd die! Oh dear! oh dear! Where do you s'pose you'd go to?"

"To the devil, as likely as not."

"Oh, don't talk like that!"

"Max Brunswick," said Miss Elsworth, as she stood by his bedside, "if you have no fear of a hereafter, I wish you would have respect enough for your poor mother to speak in milder terms. It is hard enough to see you in the condition that you are without making a bad matter worse by making light of the future."

"How do you know my name is Brunswick?"

"It matters not how I know, but I know you have been called by that name."

"Who are you?" he asked, in a careless way.

"I am just as you see me, a woman ready to help you in time of need, and it is my intention to do all in my power to add to your comfort."

"Well, you are a devilish pretty one, at any rate."