Ellen Walton Part 4

"I know you have _not_."

"Then I will prove it."

And she went in search of the paper, where she had carefully placed it away. But no paper was to be found! What could have become of it? She returned.

"Well, let me see your 'doc.u.ment,' as you term it," he said, in a taunting manner.

"It has been misplaced by some means, but I will find it in time to answer my purpose."

"Perhaps."

"Durant, you _know_ I have such a paper, and what is the use of denying it?"

"Again, I repeat, I know no such thing." Then after a pause, he continued: "We might as well understand each other at once."

He produced a paper, and went on: "Here, I suppose, is the article you speak of. I see it is in my hand-writing, and lest by any chance it should again fall into your hands, I will destroy it."

And holding it in the candle, it was soon reduced to ashes. The outwitted girl sat dumb with astonishment, surprise and dismay, and, for several seconds, was speechless. When utterance came, she inquired:

"How, in the name of reason, did you get that paper in your possession?"

"I will be frank: I watched you putting it away, and the next day I went and took it."

"And this is my reward for the signal service you demanded as the price of that written promise?"

"My continued love will be your reward."

"_Your_ love! Think you, vile miscreant, I would have the base semblance of affection from such a polluted thing as you? No, sir! Now that I see your depravity, worlds would not tempt me to wed you, degraded as I am! How I have remained blinded so long is a mystery I cannot solve, in the overwhelming light of this hour. Thank G.o.d, I am even with you!--Yes, thank Him from the bottom of my heart! You have deceived me, but in this instance I am not behind you. Ellen Walton left this house as pure as she entered it! Think you I had no object in all my restrictions of time, of secrecy and darkness? I had. One hour in the society of Miss Walton, convinced me of her unsullied purity, and another of your baseness. I resolved to save her at all hazards; and I did. My only regret _now_ is, that I made myself the victim instead of her!"

"H--ll and furies!"

"Even, am I not?"

"May the devil take you!"

"Better take care of the old fellow yourself; and of woman's wit, too!"

"I'll have my revenge yet. I'll swear that I did stay the night with Ellen, despite your treachery."

"It will do you no good. My sister gave the young lady an attested certificate, stating that she pa.s.sed the whole time with her, the two together, that the door to their room was locked, and that they were undisturbed during the night.--Nothing like a 'woman's wit!'"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "And drawing a pistol, which some freak had caused her to conceal in her dress, she made it ready, and, with her finger on the trigger, aimed it at his heart."--See page 29.]

"I curse you! Vile, treacherous--"

"Spare your epithets, inhuman monster! or, by the heavens above us, you leave not this spot alive!"

And drawing a pistol, which some freak had caused her to conceal in her dress, she made it ready, and, with her finger on the trigger, aimed it at his heart. Like all villains of his caste, he was a coward, and trembled with quaking fear before the flas.h.i.+ng eye and resolute look of the excited girl.

"Now, vile, degraded, polluted _thing_! you go from my presence never to return. Hold! not just yet, I have a parting word to say before you leave.

I confess, with self-abas.e.m.e.nt, that I once loved you, and with deep humiliation, amounting to agony, that that love was the cause of my ruin.

The vail is now torn from my eyes, and I behold you as you are, a corrupted, debased, unfeeling demon, in the human form; and I would not even touch you with my finger's end, so deep is my detestation and abhorrence of your depravity! Aye, sir, even for _me_ your very touch is defiling! But if ever you whisper a word concerning the relation you once sustained toward _me_, be it but so loud as your breath, I will as surely destroy you as I now stand before you! Remember and beware! for I call G.o.d, and angels, and earth to witness this my vow! One so lost as _you_, shall not couple _my_ name with his!"

She paused a moment, as if to collect her energies for a last effort, and then continued:

"Into the darkness of this moonless, starless, sky-beclouded night, you shall soon be driven. May it faintly prefigure the unending blackness of that eternal night you have chosen as your future portion. As you have willfully, voluntarily, and most wickedly called it down upon your own head, may the 'curse of G.o.d rest upon you in this world and the world to come!' May evils betide you in this life, every cherished hope be blasted; every plot of villainy thwarted, and you become a reproach among men, an outcast and a vagabond on the face of the earth! And when, at last, your sinful race is run, and your guilty soul has been ushered into that dreaded eternity you have plucked upon it, may your polluted carca.s.s become the prey of the carrion-crow and the buzzard, and the wild beasts of the desert wilderness howl a requiem over your bones! Go now, and meet your doom! Go with the curse of wretched innocence ever abiding upon you! Go with the canker-worm of festering corruption ever hanging, like an incubus, upon your prost.i.tuted heart, and may its fangs, charged with burning poison, pierce the very vitals of existence, till life itself shall become a burden and a curse! Go!"

And he went, with the awful curse ever burning as a flaming fire on the tablet of his memory.

The reader must bear with us for being compelled to introduce in our pages some exceptional characters. Had we consulted our own taste, or painted the characters ourself, it would not have been so. In this particular, we had no choice, as the actors were furnished to our hand in the light we have represented them, as we shall presently show by authenticated history. For the present, however, we pa.s.s to other scenes.--AUTHOR.

CHAPTER IV.

MORE VILLAINY.

From the presence of Miss Fleming, Durant went to an obscure old cabin near the river, where he met an accomplice in villainy, a tool of his, by the name of Ramsey, whom he often employed to do hazardous and dirty work, he himself was too cowardly or too _aristocratic_ to perform. The object of the present interview was to learn on what boat the Waltons had taken pa.s.sage. He was scheming again.

"Ramsey," said he, "what boats have left in the last two weeks to go down the river?"

"Only three, sir."

"Three! Did you see them all?"

"I did."

"Did you know any of the pa.s.sengers?"

"I did. Colonel Thomas Marshall commanded one of the boats, with whom there were a number of Virginians, several of them personally known to me."

"Was there a family by the name of Walton among them?"

"Walton--Walton? I don't know them."

"A father, mother and daughter; the girl eighteen, and uncommonly good looking--present a much richer appearance than is usual with emigrants."

"I remember them; they went in another boat."

"Do you think they have reached Maysville yet?"

"If unusually lucky, they have; but most probably not."

"Then there is a possibility of their being overtaken, you think?"