Part 41 (1/2)

Horrified, Archie turned his bloodshot eyes toward Roseleaf. What could this strange visit of Hannibal's to that vicinity presage? Did he intend to murder the master of the house and abduct the daughter? What was he doing there, at an hour not much short of midnight? The terrors of his previous imaginings gave way to yet more horrible ones.

But the mute appeal that he shot at his companion produced no answer, except a resolute shake of the head--an absolute prohibition against the least sound or movement.

Hannibal reached the fence and, without any attempt at concealment, climbed over it into the enclosure where were situated the house and outbuildings of the Oakhurst estate. He acted like one who knows his ground and has no occasion to pick his way. He went, however, but a little farther in the direction of the residence. In a place where the shadow of a smokehouse hid him from the possible view of any one looking from the windows, he waited in an att.i.tude of expectation.

The difficulty of controlling himself grew stronger and stronger for Archie Weil. He wanted to end this terrible doubt--to spring over that fence, pinion this fellow by the throat and demand what business he had on those premises at that hour. Roseleaf realized all that was pa.s.sing in his mind, and kept his hand still on his shoulder, at the same time warning him by signs that the least movement would ruin everything. It seemed to Archie, when he thought it over afterward, that he had never endured such pain. He knew beyond reasonable doubt that Hannibal was awaiting some one by appointment. Who could it be? That was the stupendous question that Roseleaf might have answered in a whisper, but that he preferred for some mysterious reason his friend should discover in the natural course of events. And that course was horribly, torturously slow!

Everything has an end, and the dread of the watcher changed to another feeling as he saw distinctly one of the outer doors of the residence open and Daisy Fern's form come out. Without glancing to the right or the left she walked in the direction where the negro was waiting. For an instant, overcome by his apprehensions, Archie closed both his eyes in despair. The voice of Roseleaf was at last heard in his ear, a whisper nearly inaudible, conjuring him not to betray his presence whatever the provocation.

When Archie opened his eyes again he saw that Hannibal stood in an att.i.tude of respect. When the girl approached he bowed, without offering any more intimate courtesy. Daisy had the look of one who has made up her mind to endure an unpleasant interview and desires to end it as quickly as possible.

”Well?” she said, in a low tone.

”I am going to-morrow,” he replied, in a voice that shook with emotion.

”Yes.”

”And, as I told you, I want to say good-by once more.”

Archie breathed a trifle easier. He could not tell what fears had crowded upon him--they were indistinct in their horribleness--but some of them had already flown.

”You are as cold as ever,” continued the rich voice of the negro, in a cadence that was meant to be reproachful.

”Do you think I could be anything else?” was the quick reply, as if forced from lips that had meant to remain silent. ”Has your conduct been such as to make me like or respect you?”

The negro's eyes fell before her indignant gaze.

”No,” he answered, humbly. ”I expect nothing; I ask nothing. I can see my mistakes now. And yet, it would have been no different had I played the part of an angel toward you. The entire question with you was settled in advance by the fact that my skin was black.”

The pressure on Weil's shoulder grew heavier, from time to time, as his companion realized his temptation to break from his covert.

”If it had been as white as any man's who ever lived,” replied Daisy, boldly, ”your conduct would have earned the contempt of a self-respecting person! A blackmailer, an abductor, a conspirator against the peace of mind of an old man and a young girl who never harmed you! I wonder you can talk of other reasons when you created so many by your wicked acts!”

Hannibal shrugged his shoulders.

”It is true, nevertheless,” he replied. ”I am a negro. In a moment of insanity I dreamed I was a Man! I dreamed I might gain for my wife a woman whose ancestors had been born in a more northerly clime than my own. To gain that end I took the only course that seemed open. I possessed myself of an influence that would make her father fear me.

Well, I played and I lost--and then, like other players and losers, even white ones, I was desperate. You were to be married to another--a man I hated. Life had lost its only charm, I could not bear that you should be his bride. My torture was intense. I asked but for death.”

These revelations, so novel to at least one of the listeners, smote him with terrific force.

”You asked for more!” said the girl, hoa.r.s.ely. ”You asked for my death as well as your own. And you wanted me to die in such a situation that all the world would say I had perished willingly with you. Could anything more cowardly be conceived! Was anything more dastardly ever devised! It was the morning of my wedding day; my father was waiting for me at home; my promised husband was preparing for the bridal; my friends were invited to the ceremony. What were all these to you? With Mephistophelian cunning you sent me a letter in another person's handwriting, saying that, if I would come to a certain address, and pay fifty dollars, several forged notes given by my father would be returned to me. You knew I would respond. You knew I would tell no one where I was going, as I did not expect to be detained more than an hour, and there was apparently the strongest reasons for secrecy. And when I was completely in your clutches you gave me the alternative of _marrying_ you--ugh!--or of taking the poison you had so carefully prepared. Oh, how _could_ you! how _could_ you, when you professed to _like_ me!”

There was a low gurgle in Archie Weil's throat, that he could not suppress. Fearful that it might be heard in that dead silence, Roseleaf shook his companion slightly. Mingled with his other emotions there now came to Weil a stupefied wonder at the apparent coolness of the novelist.

”When one is willing to die for his love, it should not be questioned,”

said the negro. ”I could not have you in life--I wanted you in death. I wanted the world, which had despised me, to think a beautiful woman had preferred to die with me rather than marry a man she did not wish to wed. But why should we recall that dreadful day and night? You won the victory. You, with your superior finesse, triumphed over the African as your race has always triumphed over mine. I demanded love or death. You dissuaded me from both. And the next day I permitted you to depart, and saw vanish with you the last hope of happiness I shall ever feel.”

The rich voice of the speaker broke completely at the close, but the girl who heard him seemed to feel no sympathy for his distress.

”Always yourself!” she exclaimed. ”Do you ever think of the life you left to _me_--a life hardly more kind than the murder you contemplated.