Part 108 (1/2)

”I will be brief,” continued the woman, rising slowly, and looking at Georgia Conway, with that dagger-like smile. ”General Darke-Davenant has related a pleasing little history. I will relate another, and address myself more particularly to Judge Conway--my dear uncle. He does not, or will not, recognize me; and I suppose I may have changed.

But that is not important. I am none the less Lucretia Conway. You do not remember that young lady, perhaps, sir; your proud Conway blood has banished from your memory the very fact of her former existence. And yet she existed--she exists still--she is speaking to you--unbosoming herself in the midst of her dear family! But to tell my little story--it will not take many minutes. I was born here, you remember, uncle, and grew up what is called headstrong. At sixteen, I fell in love with a young Adonis with a mustache; and, as you and the rest opposed my marriage, obdurately refusing your consent, I yielded to the eloquence of Mr. Adonis, and eloped with him, going to the North. Here we had a quarrel. I grew angry, and slapped Adonis; and he took his revenge by departing without leaving me a wedding-ring to recall his dear image. Then I met that gentleman--General Darke-Mortimer-Davenant!

We took a fancy to each other; we became friends; and soon afterward travelled to the South, stopping in Dinwiddie. Here I made the acquaintance of General Mohun--there he stands; he fell desperately in love with me--married me--Parson Hope will tell you that--and then attempted to murder me, without rhyme or reason. Luckily, I made my escape from the monster! rejoined my friend, General Darke-Davenant; the war came on; I came back here; have been lately arrested, but escaped by bribing the rebel jailers; only, however, to find that my naughty husband is going to marry my cousin Georgia! Can you wonder, then, that I have exerted myself to be present at the interesting ceremony? That I have yielded to my fond affection, and come to say to my dear Georgia, 'Don't marry my husband, cousin!' And yet you frown at me--you evidently hate me--you think I am _lying_--that I was married before, perhaps. Well, if that be the case, where is the proof of that marriage?” ”Here it is!” said a voice, which made the woman turn suddenly.

And opening the heavy window-curtains, which had, up to this moment, concealed him, Nighthawk advanced into the apartment, holding in his hand a paper.

A wild rage filled the eyes of the woman, but now so smiling. Her hand darted to her bosom, and I saw the gleam of a poniard.

”This paper,” said Nighthawk, coolly, ”was found on the dead body of a man named Alibi, who had stolen it. See, Judge Conway; it is in regular form. 'At Utica, New York, Mortimer Davenant to Lucretia Conway.'

Attested by seal and signature. There can be no doubt of its genuineness.”

Suddenly a hoa.r.s.e exclamation was heard, and a poniard gleamed in the hand of the woman.

With a single bound, she reached Georgia Conway, and struck at her heart. The corsage of the young lady, however, turned the poniard, and at the same instant a thundering volley of musketry resounded without.

Furious cries were then heard; the wild trampling of horses; and a loud voice ordering:--

”Put them to the bayonet!”

Darke drew his sword, and reached the side of the woman at a bound.

Throwing his arms around her, he raised her, and rushed, with his burden, through the hall, toward the lawn, where a fierce combat was in progress.

Suddenly the woman uttered a wild cry, and relaxed her grasp upon his neck. A bullet had buried itself in her bosom.

Darke's hoa.r.s.e and menacing voice echoed the cry; but he did not release the body; with superhuman strength he raised it aloft, and bounded down the steps.

As he reached the bottom, a man rushed upon him, and drove his bayonet through his breast. It was withdrawn, streaming with blood.

”Put all to the bayonet!” shouted the voice of General Davenant, as he charged with his young son, Charles, beside him.

At that voice Darke stretched out both hands, and dropping his sword, uttered a cry, which attracted the general's attention.

For an instant they stood facing each other--unutterable horror in the eyes of General Davenant.

”I am--done for,” exclaimed Darke, a b.l.o.o.d.y foam rus.h.i.+ng to his lips, ”but--I have told him--that _I_ was the murderer--that _you_ were innocent. Give me your hand, father!”

General Davenant leaped to the ground, and with a piteous groan received the dying man in his arms.

”I am a wretch--I know that--but I was a Davenant once”--came in low murmurs. ”Tell Will, he can marry now, for I will be dead--kiss me once, Charley!”

The weeping boy threw himself upon his knees, and pressed his lips to those of his brother.

As he did so, the wounded man fell back in his father's arms, and expired.

XXI.

FIVE FORKS.