Part 41 (1/2)
”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 s.h.i.+nes, 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.