Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 35, Number 14, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 October 1902 — A SISTER'S VENGEANCE [ARTICLE]

A SISTER'S VENGEANCE

By CEORCE MANVILLE FENN

CHAPTER XVllL—(Continued.) The man was stunned, and lay perfectly inert as Humphrey and his companion struggled to their feet, panting with exertion, and listening for the return of the •arty who had gone on. Bnt they had not heard the noise of the struggle, the- maze-like turnings of the path had shut it out, and their voices now came muffled and soft, as if from a distance. Then Humphrey felt his hand gripped firmly. “This way.” “What! Are you going to take me back to prison?” said Humphrey, mockingly. ' “Did you wish to go straight to death?” “I am going straight to liberty'.” cried Humphrey. “This way, then,” whispered his companion; and without a word Humphrey allowed himself to be led back along the dark arcade, listening to the heavy panting of his guide, who seamed to be breathing heavily, as if in pain. For some time no word was spoken. Then, as he became aware of his companion’s purpose, Humphrey stopped abort. “You are leading me back to that cursed prison,” he said, fiercely. “Ix>ose my hand." “I am leading you to the only place where you will be safe,” was whispered back. “Have I not suffered enough, man? Do you think I wish to die with the knowledge’that these dogs will seize and rend you?” “Rend me?” “Yes. They have risen. That wretch, whom I have spared so long in my weak folly, is at their head. Humjfhrey Armstrong, believe me, I am trying to have your lifer’ “Then why not make for the shore? A boat! Give me a boat and let me go!” “Half the men who were faithful to me are dead, treacherously burned to death in their quarters. I cannot explain; but the doorway* was blocked by those fiends. The lauding place is guarded by a portion of his blood-thirsty gang. To go to the shore is to seek your death. Will you not trust me now?” “It is to keep me herel” he cried fiercely. “To keep yon here when I would gladly say go! Trust me. ‘ Give" me time to <hink. I was coming to save you when we met. Will you not believe?” “Yes,” cried Humphrey, hoarsely. ‘1 will trust-you!” “Ha!” - That was all. His hand was gripped more tightly; and, as he yielded it to his companion, he felt himself led with unerring decision in and out among the moldering ruins of the edge of the clearing to the side of the old amphitheater, faint metallic dink from time to time indicating that a sword was being struck upon the stones to make sure of the way. “You are going back thdre?” said Humphrey. “Yes,” came back, hoarsely. “Do not speak. We may be hedrd.” ~ Humphrey was conscious that his guide had led him to the altar and sunk upon ■ft - ’STith a moan; but she stfll tightly clung to his hand. - % ‘ There they remained in silence ns if listening for pursuit; and the deep, hoarse tyeathing of both sounded ■painfully loud in the utter darkness. Humphrey essayed to speak again and •gain, but he felt that he could not trust himself to utter words. It was his companien who broke the painful silence as she still clung to his hand. “I ought to have acted sooner,” she •aid. bitterly. “I might have known it, but in my cruel selfishness I could not let you go. Do not blame me—do not reproach me. It was my madness; and now the punishment has come.” "I do not understand you,” he said, huskily. . “You do,” she'said, gently. “But it is no time to think of this. Listen! These men will search every spot to find and slay me—and you; but you shall escape. Now listen: Below this old place there Is a rock chamber, known only to me and Bart--who lies wounded yonder and helpless: but he will not betray the secret, even if he thinks that you are there. You will go to the end of your couch, press heavily with your shoulder against the corner, forcing it in this direction, nnd then the great stone will move upon a pivot. There is a way down——”

“You need not tell me,” said Humphrey at this point. “I know.” “Thank Heaven!” she ejaculated. “Keep in hiding there till the wretches are off their guard; and then cautiously make your way by night down to the landing place, and by son,e menns .seize a boat. There will be no guard kept when I am gone.” “And my people—my poor follows?” “Gone," she said, quietly. “They poized a boat and escaped long ago. All has been confusion here since—since 1 have beed mad,” she added, piteously. “Escaped!” “Yes; and you will escape. And in the future, when you are away—and happy-r don’t ctrrse me —think of -me as a poor women, driven by fate—to what I am—but who saw and loved you, Humphrey. Armstrong, as woman has seldom, loved before.” “Oh, hush!" he said, huskily. “For Hed'ven’s sake, don’t speak like that!!’ “No," she said, gently, “I will not speak. It is neatly oxer now. You will forgive me?” “Fbrgive you—yes!” • She uttered a low sigh, full of Uiankfulnees, as she still ehtng to his hand.- - “It is enough,” she said. “Now. go! You know the way. Be cautious, be patient and trtde ytftn- time; and then Heaven speed yon safely home! He has forgiven me,” she sighed to herself, aftdthe pressure upon his band seemed to in- . c5ea5e.......... ,-•> ’ - . •.J. . “Well.” shd said, after a few moments' pause, “why do you stay?” Her voice startled him in Its intensity, for it seemed to echo through the place; and hie hand had. as It had been for many minutes past, grasped hers with crushing force as the tide rose to its nilleit height •nd bore him on. * “And you?" he said. “What will you

“I?” she said, with a faint laugh. “I jshall wait here until they come.” “Wait here?” cried Humphrey. “They will kill you!” “Yes,” she said, softly. “Then why not share my flight. Come with me now while there is time. I will protect yon and take you where you,will. I cannot leave you like this!” “Not leave me?’ she sgid, with a sob. “No. Do you think me such a cur that I could leave you to the mercy of these wretches?’ “It is too late,” she said. “Go!” “Go?’ “Yes, while there is time.” “But yon can hide as well as I!” he cried, excitedly. “Come!” _.... “It is too late,” she said, and he felt her hand tremble in his grasp. “And leave you?’ he cried. “I would sooner die!” “Then you do love me?” she cried, wildly, as she half rose from the altar, but sank back.

“Love you!” he cried, passionately. “I have fought with it, I have battled with it till I have been nearly mad! Love you, Mary, my brave, true heroine! 1 lovo you with all my heart!” She uttered a wild cry of joy as he threw himself upon his knees and clasped her to his heart, her two arms clung tightly round his neck, as she uttered a low moan of mingled joy and pain. “Love you!” ho whispered, as he raised his face, and his lips sought hers. “My darling! words will not tell my love! Come, what is the world to us? You are my world, my own, my love! Come!” She clung to him passionately for a few moments. “At last!" she said softly, as if to herself. “The love of one true, noble man! Ah!” A low, deep sigh escaped her, and then, as if roused to a sense of her position, she thrust him back and listened. “Hark!” as a low shout arose. “They are coming back—they will be here toon! Quick! lose no time! Y'ou must escape!” “I could not live without you now!” he cried, passionately, as he held her to him more tightly still. “They are coming. It is too late for me. Let me die in peace, knowing that you are saved.” He raised her in his arms and bore her to ths great stone, and, as he laid her gently down, the noise of the coming gang could be heard. There was not a moment to lose, and any slip in his instructions would have resulted in destruction; but as he pressed against the stone it easily revolved, and he stooped once more and raised the fainting woman in his arms, to bear, her down into the tomb-like structure and place her at the fopt of the broad stone stairs which led into the vault. As he loosened her arms from about his neck and passed quickly up ageing there were heavy steps in the long corridor, and lights flashed through the openings of the great curtain. So close were the men that Humphrey saw their faces as he stood on the upper step and dragged at the slab by two great hollows underneath, made apparently by the masons for mover’s hands. ——

For the moment Humphrey, as he bent down there beneath the place on which he had jsq often slept or lain to think, felt certain that he must have been seen; but the muffled voices came close up, and there was no seizing of the great stone, no smiting upon its sides. He held his breath as he stood bending down and listening for. some indication ‘of danger; but it seemed aS if the men had coursed all over the place, searching in all directions, and were about to go, when, all at once, there was a shout close to lhe place where he had raised Mary from the altar. The shout was followed by a muffled sou.id of many voices, and he listened, wondering what it meant. Some discovery had evidently been made, but what? Hr shuddered anef a chill of'horror shot through him, for he knew directly after. It was blood. CHAPTER XIX. With the deathly silence which ensued as the heavy echoing steps of the searchers passed away, the men being completely at fault as to why certain drops of blood should be lying near the couch, Huijiphrey descended the steps once more. “They are gone.” he whispered, but then# was no reply; and, feeling softly about his hand came in contact with Maty's arm, to find that she lay back in a corner of the vault, with a ’kerchief preyed tightly against her breast. • Hr hastily bandaged the wound, firmly binding the handkerchief which she held there with his own and the broad scaif he wore, and after placing her in a more comfortable position, began to seatch in the darkness for the food and wafer which was there. T.ie water was soon found—a deep, cool cistprn in the middle of the floor. T.ie food lay close at hand, and with it a c jp. With this he bore some of the eooL refreshing liquid to the wounded woman, holding some to her lips and batting her brow, tilt she uttered a sigh and returned to consciousness. “l>on’t leave me!” she said, feebly. “It is dark!” “lltt we are safe,” he whispered. “They are yotie.” '"Les." shefkighed; “I heard them. How is it to day?” “It cannot be long now,” he said, as he took her hand. t>Le sighed ns she felt the nnwonted tencerness and rested her head against his shoulder. “Xo," she said softly, "it cannot be long now. It will come too toon!” There was so .much meaning in her voie-j that he felr a cold chill as if the hand of death passed between to separate theft* two so strangely brought together. “Are you in pain?*’ he said. “Rain! No. Happy—so happy!’-U.she whisyiered. “For you do love me?” "IftStve you!” he cried. “And she—at home?” “That was not love,” wildly. '“But now tell me about thii place—shall see the day when It'comes?”’ : “You will,” she said, softly. “I shall—perhaps.” , < >z “Perhaps! No, you shall!” he whispeeed, as he pressed his arm gently |

around her, forgetting everything now of the past, save that this woman loved him, and that there was a future before them of hope and joy. • “Hold me like that,” she whispered, with a sigh of content “It is better so. It could have been—only my wild dream —a woman’s thirst ,for the love of one in whom she could believe. A woman’s love!" As the light grew stronger he saw that his companion seemed to have lost the old masculine look given by her attire; for coat and vest had been cast aside, nnd the loose shirt, open at the neck, had more the aspect of a robe. Her dark hair curled closely about hes temples, and as Humphrey Armstrong gazed down at tfie face, with its parted lips and long lashes lying upon the creamy dark cheeks, his heart throbbed, for he felt that he had won the love of as handsome a woman as any upon whom his eyes had ever lighted. He forgot the wound, the bandanging kerchief seeming in the semi-darkness like-some scarf: and as he sat and gazed he bent down lower, and softly touched the moist forehead with his lips. Mary woke up with a frightened start and gazed at him wildly, but as consciousness came her look softened and she “nestled ’Eo T” “I did not mean to wake- you,” he said. She started again and looked at him wildly, as if she fancied she had detected a chilliness in his manner; but his eyes undeceived her, and as he raised her hand to his lips, she let it rest there for a few moments, and then stole it round ais neck. “Tell me,” he said gently, “your wound?” She shook her head softly. "No,” she whispered; “let it rest. Talk of yourself. You will wait here two days, and then steal out at night and make your way down to the shore. You know the way?” "If I do you will guide me,” he said. She looked at him keenly to see if hg. meant-What he said, and then reading the sincerity of his words in his frank eyes, she dhook her head again. “No - ,” she whispered. “You me of my wound. It is home. Humphrey Armstrong, this is to be my tomb!” "What!” he cried. “Oh, no! no! no! You must live to bless me with your love!” “Live to disgrace you with my love!” “Mary!” There was such a depth of love, such intensity in the tone in which he uttered her name, that she moshed aloud. “Ah, you are in pain!” he cried. “In pain for you,” she whispered, “for you suffer for my sake. Hist! Do you hear?” Shp clung to him tightly. “No," he said, “there is nothing.” “Yes,” she said, softly. "Steps. I can hear them —they are coming back.” Mary signed to him to listen; at that moment the stone slab moved gently a few inches, for some one had seated himself upon the edge. “Now, my lad,” cried a hoarse voice, “you know all about it, and I’m captain now. Where’s that prisoner?” "Sure and how could I know any way, Black Mazzard?” .“Captain Mazzard!” roared the first speaker. “Oh, murther! Put them pishtols away, and I’ll call ye captain, or adhmiral if ye like!" “No fooling! Where is that prisoner?” “Which one, sor?” “No fooling, Paddy! Captain Armstrong!” “Faix, an’ he must have run away, skeart loike, whin he heerd you were coming.” “You know where he is!” “Faix, and that’s thrue,” said Dinny. “Where is he, then? Tell me the truth* and I’ll let you live this time. Tell me a lie, and I’ll hang you.” “Och, don’t, captain! Ye’d waken yer crew horribly if ye were to hang me.” "I’ll hang you as sure as you stand there, if you don’t confess.” “Murther! Don’t now, captain, for I shouldn’t die dacently if ye did hang me. It isn’t a way I’ve been accustomed to. Ah, moind! That pishtol might go off.” "It will go off if you don’t speak. He’z hidden somewhere here, and you know where. Speak out!” "SJhpake out! And is it shpake out?” said Dinny, slowly, as with advanced blade Humphrey stood ready to plunge It Into “the breast'<7T the first man who 'fittempted to descend. “Oh, well, I’ll shpake out then.” (To be continued.)