Part 21 (1/2)

A CONFESSION.

Mr. Lurton wisely left the room. Mrs. Plausaby's fears of death soon awakened again, and she begged Isa to ask Mr. Lurton to come back. Like most feeble people, she had a superst.i.tious veneration for ecclesiastical authority, and now in her weakened condition she had readily got a vague notion that Lurton held her salvation in his hands, and could modify the conditions if he would.

”You aren't a Catholic are you, Mr. Lurton?”

”No, I am not at all a Catholic.”

”Well, then, what makes you want me to confess?”

”Because you are adding to your first sin a greater one in wronging your son by not confessing.”

”Who told you that? Did Albert?”

”No, you told me as much as that, yourself.”

”Did I? Why, then I might as well tell you all. But why won't that do?”

”Because, that much would not get Albert out of prison. You don't want to leave him in penitentiary when you're gone, do you?”

”Oh, dear! I can't tell. Plausaby won't let me. Maybe I might tell Isa.”

”That will do just as well. Tell Miss Marlay.” And Lurton walked out on the piazza.

For half an hour Mrs. Plausaby talked to Isa and told her nothing. She would come face to face with the confession, and then say that she could not tell it, that Plausaby would do something awful if he knew she had said so much.

At last Isabel was tired out with this method, and was desperate at the thought that Plausaby would return while yet the confession was incomplete. So she determined to force Mrs. Plausaby to speak.

”Now, Mrs. Plausaby,” she said, ”what did Uncle Plausaby say to you that made you take that letter of Smith Westcott's?”

”I didn't take it, did I? How do you know? I didn't say so?”

”You have told me part, and if you tell me the rest I will keep it secret for the present. If you don't tell me, I shall tell Uncle Plausaby what I know, and tell him that he must tell me the rest.”

”You wouldn't do that, Isabel? You couldn't do that. Don't do that,”

begged the sick woman.

”Then tell me the truth,” she said with sternness. ”What made you take that land-warrant--for you know you did, and you must not tell me a lie when you're just going to die and go before G.o.d.”

”There now, Isa, I knew you would hate me. That's the reason why I can't tell it. Everybody has been looking so hateful at me ever since I took the letter, I mean ever since--Oh! I didn't mean anything bad, but you know I have to do what Plausaby tells me I must do. He's _such_ a man!

And then he was in trouble. There was some old trouble from Pennsylvania.

The men came on here, and made him pay money, all the money he could get, to keep them from having him put in prison. I don't know what it was all about, you know, I never could understand about business, but here was Albert bothering him about money to pay for a warrant, and these men taking all his money, and here was a trial about some lots that he sold to that fat man with curly hair, and he was afraid Albert would swear against him about that and about the county-seat, and so he wanted to get him away. And there was an awful bother about Katy and Westcott at the same time. And I wanted a changeable silk dress, and he couldn't get it for me because all his money was going to the men from Pennsylvania.

But--I can't tell you any more. I'm afraid Plausaby might come. You won't tell, and you won't hate me, Isa, dear--now, will you? You used to be good to me, but you won't be good to me any more!”

”I'll always love you if you only tell me the rest.”

”No, I can't. For you see Plausaby didn't mean any harm, and I didn't mean any harm. Plausaby wanted Albert to go away so they couldn't get Albert to swear against him. It was all Albert's fault, you know--he had such notions. But he was a good boy, and I can't sleep at night now for seeing him behind a kind of a grate, and he seems to be pointing his finger at me and saying, 'You put me in here.' But I didn't. That's one of his notions. It was Plausaby made me do it. And he didn't mean any harm. He said Westcott would soon be his son-in-law. He had helped Westcott to get the claim anyhow. It was only borrowing a little from his own son-in-law. He said that I must get the letter out of the office when Albert did not see me. He said it would be a big letter, with 'Red Owl' stamped on it, and that it would be in Mr. Westcott's box. And he said I must take the land-warrant out and burn up the letter and the envelope. And then he said I must give the land-warrant to Albert the next day, and tell him that a man that came up in the stage brought it from Plausaby. And he said he'd get another and bring it home with him and give it to Westcott, and make it all right. And that would keep him out of prison, and get Albert away so he couldn't swear against him in the suit with the fat man, and then he would be able to get me the changeable silk that I wanted so much. But things went all wrong with him since, and I never got the changeable silk, and he said he would keep Albert out of penitentiary and he didn't, and Albert told me I musn't tell anybody about taking it myself, for he couldn't bear to have me go to prison. Now, won't that do? But don't you tell Plausaby.

He looks at me sometimes so awfully. Oh, dear! if I could have told that before, maybe I wouldn't have died. It's been killing me all the time.