Part 49 (1/2)

Hope had not yet abandoned her. She had too much confidence in the omnipresent justice of an overruling Providence to doubt that all would yet end well.

Dido was her jailer, and she scarcely left the office, through which alone egress was had from the apartment of Emily. There she dozed away the day and night, freely indulging in the fas.h.i.+onable habit of ”imbibing,” to chase away the _ennui_ of the heavy hours. Her liberal perquisites enabled her to gratify her appet.i.te without stint or measure, though a sort of demi-consciousness of her responsibility deterred her from an entire abandonment to the pleasures of the cup.

The apartment in which Emily was confined was lighted by windows of stained gla.s.s, opening into the main office, so that there was no immediate connection with the open air. This fact rendered the room so secure that Dido rested perfectly easy from the fear of interruption, save from the front of the building.

The colored guardian, having imbibed rather inordinately one day, was disposed to court the favor of the sleepy G.o.d, and stretched herself at full length upon one of the easy lounges of the office. Her eyelids opened and closed languidly, as though she was about to sink away into dreamy unconsciousness, when she was startled by a loud knocking at the door.

”Who's dar?” shouted Dido, springing to her feet; for a visit to the office, at this season of the year, was of rare occurrence.

”Open the door, Max,” responded a voice from the outside.

”Mr. Maxwell not here, sar,” said the colored lady, partly opening the door.

”Not here!” returned the visitor, pus.h.i.+ng into the office in spite of the negress, who was disposed to prevent his entrance. ”Isn't Max in town?”

”No sar; he went away to de Norf about a monf ago.”

”Look here, you black imp,” said the stranger, in a severe tone, ”do you mean to say that Max is _not_ in town?”

”I do, for sartin, sar.”

”And he has left you to practise law for him in his absence?” returned the visitor, with a grin.

”No sar, I takes care ob de buildin.”

”Fudge! Maxwell always shuts up his room when he leaves town;” and the stranger walked round the room towards the private apartment, much to the consternation of Dido.

”No, Ma.s.sa, he tell me, monf ago, to keep de room in order.”

”No doubt he did,” returned the stranger, placing his hand on the handle of the door, and attempting to open it, which, by Dido's precaution, was ineffectual.

”Is there no one in this room?” asked the gentleman.

”No sar, de room is locked, and Ma.s.sa Maxwell hab carry off de key.”

The stranger walked several times round the room, and thoroughly scrutinized everything; after which, to the entire satisfaction of the colored lady, he took his departure. Pa.s.sing out of the building, he crossed the street and entered a coffee-room, at the front window of which he seated himself, as if with the intention of watching Maxwell's office.

This person was the reader's old acquaintance, Vernon,--or, more properly, Jerome Vaudelier, whose intervening history we are now called upon to relate. It will be remembered that, at the request of his father, and at the earnest desire of Henry Carroll, as well as by the promptings of his own wish to do justice to the heiress, he had gone to Vicksburg, for the purpose of keeping an eye on the movements of Maxwell. On his arrival at the hotel, he found the attorney, and dined With him; but after dinner he suddenly and mysteriously disappeared.

All Vernon's inquiries were of no avail. The landlord said he had paid his bill, and that was the last he had seen of him. Vernon was perplexed, and on learning that no boat had left since dinner, he was at a loss which way to proceed. Late in the afternoon he obtained, as he thought, some clue to him; and he departed, without loss of time, to Jackson, whither the attorney was supposed to have gone. His search, however, was futile, and he returned to Vicksburg by the morning train.

Much disheartened, he was compelled to go to Cottage Island with the intelligence that his efforts had been foiled. On his arrival, he learned, to his astonishment, that Emily had just gone to Bellevue in company with De Guy--a person of whom he had no knowledge.

Though Dr. Vaudelier and Henry Carroll had been satisfied with the evidences brought by De Guy, Vernon was not. He knew better than they the character of Maxwell, and it was determined that he should proceed immediately to New Orleans, to guard against the possibility of any evil to which Emily might be subjected.

On the morning after De Guy's departure, he proceeded down the river, and landed in the vicinity of Bellevue, to which he immediately made his way. Without a direct application to any one, he learned that Emily had not yet arrived. He waited in the vicinity another day, but obtained no tidings of her. His worst fears were now confirmed. De Guy had deceived them.

This De Guy, then, was an emissary of Maxwell. To his mind, now animated by a high purpose, the reflection was annoying. To the fate of Emily his new destiny seemed to be attached. His greatest error--at least, the one most troublesome to his awakened conscience--was the act of oppressing Emily. He felt that the was.h.i.+ng of the stains from his character depended upon securing her rights.

The _ci devant_ desperado, as we have before indicated, was radically changed at heart, and he now felt more interest in the welfare of Emily than he had ever before harbored for any human being.

His position was full of embarra.s.sments. He learned, while at Bellevue, that Jaspar was not, and had not been, sick. This information decided his future course. The mission of De Guy had only been a decoy, to lure her into the hands of Maxwell.