Part 53 (2/2)

”'Oh, the tale is brief and brutal. I was seated on the straw one day, with Hugh's head in my lap, putting water on his forehead and trying to quiet him, when the turnkey came in with an English officer. This gentleman looked about him at the few left alive, asked carelessly who broke the window-panes, and then suddenly seemed to notice Hugh. He asked who was this poor devil. The turnkey said, ”Name of Wynne, sir.” Then the captain stood still a moment, staring at us, and, as if curious, bent down, asking me what Hugh was saying. Now my poor friend was muttering over and over, ”Dorothea! Dorothea!”--some woman's name, I suppose, but what woman he never told me.'

”At this I saw Darthea flush, but perhaps remembering that Mr. Delaney might know her only as Miss p.e.n.i.ston, which was the fact, she controlled herself and said quickly: 'He asked his name? Are you sure he asked his name? Could there have been no mistake?'

”Delaney looked the surprise he no doubt felt, and replied, 'Yes; of that I am sure.'

”'Do you think,' said Darthea, 'he knew how ill Mr. Hugh Wynne was?'

”'Certainly; I heard the turnkey tell him that a day or two would see Hugh in the potter's field with the rest. The doctor had said as much.

This was true; he had told me it was useless for him to return, and indeed I thought so too. They buried a half-dozen a day. When told that this man Wynne had jail-fever, the captain seemed in haste to leave. At the door lie turned and took another look at Hugh, and then went out. I asked his name next day, but the turnkey laughed, and said it was none of my business. I had a fancy that the inspector desired to remain unknown. I was sure of this when, a few days after, I described the officer to Hugh, who was then quite himself. When Hugh said at last, ”Had he a scar over the left eye!” and I said he had, Hugh cried out in a rage that it was his cousin, and would talk of nothing else for days.

I fear there can be no doubt that the inspecting officer was Captain Arthur Wynne.'

”'Horrible!' exclaimed Mistress Wynne. 'Incredible!'

”'Yes; it seems to me a quite inconceivable thing, but I am certain, though the man looked a gentleman all over.'

”'He looked a gentleman all over,' said Darthea, with strange deliberateness of speech.

”This while Mistress Wynne sat drawn up, her face set, and one hand moving on the arm of the chair, just the same queer trick her brother had. As for me, I watched Darthea. It was a merciless plot, and may have been needed; but in truth the way of it was cruel, and my heart bled for her I loved.

”As she spoke her tones were so strange that Mr. Delaney, who was clearly but an innocent though sharp tool, said: 'I beg pardon, Miss p.e.n.i.ston. These sad stories are too dreadful to repeat. Miss Wynne would have it--'

”But Darthea was now quite lost to the common ways of life. She went on like a person questioning herself, as it sounded to me. 'Arthur Wynne asked his name. Is that so?'

”Delaney said, 'Yes,' now, as I saw, quite troubled, and wis.h.i.+ng himself out of it, I dare say.

”'And he knew he was in rags, starved, dying, and he left him?'

continued Darthea, 'He left him--to die.'

”'Yes; but--'

”'No matter. I must hear all--all!' she cried sharply--'all! I am the person most concerned.'

”'Darthea!' then exclaimed Miss Wynne, alarmed, I suppose, at her wild manner and breaking voice.

”But Darthea went on. 'This is my business, madam. You are sure, sir?

This is no time to trifle. I--I am--I must know! I must know! Would you say this to Captain Wynne were he here? Answer me, sir!'

”'Certainly I would, Miss p.e.n.i.ston.'

”'Mistress Wynne,' said Darthea, rising, 'I have been brought here to let a stranger see my--my weakness. It is plain. Did you think I could hide it, madam? Pardon me, sir. You have done me a cruel service. I--I thank you. I bid you good-evening, Mistress Wynne. Was there no other way, no kinder way, to tell me? Will you take me home, Jack? I--I am tired.'

”We had all risen with her at the beginning of this last speech, I troubled, Miss Wynne very red, and only fit to say over and over, 'Darthea! Darthea!' Mr. Delaney annoyed, and lacking knowledge of the situation; all of us awkward and confused save Darthea, who pa.s.sed out into the hall, followed by Miss Wynne, and saying, as she went forth, 'I will never forgive you, madam, never! never! You are a wicked old woman!

I shall never speak to you again. I did not think it.'

”I walked in silence beside her to Mrs. p.e.n.i.ston's home. 'Thank you, Jack,' said she, in a sweet, low voice. 'You did not know, did you, of this sad story?'

”'Yes, dear lady, but of this disgusting plot, no.'

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