Part 41 (2/2)
”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?”
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