CHAPTER II.
THE DEATH OF ESTHER.
"What shrieking spirit in that bloody room Its mortal frame hath violently quitted? Across the moonbeam, with a sudden gleam, A ghostly shadow flitted."--HOOD.
For a moment he stood still, stunned and bewildered. Understand? Yes, heunderstood her too well.
He approached the bed, and softly drew back the heavy, dark curtains.Lying there, in a troubled sleep, lay a young girl, whose face waswhiter than the pillow which supported her. Her long hair streamed inwild disorder over her shoulders, and added to the wanness of her paleface.
She moaned and turned restlessly on her pillow, and opened a pair oflarge, wild eyes, and fixed them on the unprepossessing face bendingover her. With lips and eyes opened with terror, she lay gazing, untilhe said, in as gentle a voice as he could assume;
"Do not be afraid of me--I am the doctor. Can I do anything for you,child?"
"Yes, yes," she replied, faintly; "give me a drink."
He turned hastily toward the table, feeling so giddy he could scarcelystand. A tiny vial, containing a clear, colorless liquid, attracted hiseye. He took it up and examined it, and setting his teeth hard together,poured its contents into a glass. Then filling it with water heapproached the bed, and raising her head, pressed it to her lips. Hishand trembled so he spilt it on the quilt. The young girl lifted herwild, troubled eyes, and fixed them on his face with a gaze so long andsteady that his own fell beneath it.
"Drink!" he said, hoarsely, still pressing it to her lips.
Without a word she obeyed, draining it to the last drop. Then laying herback on the pillow, he drew the curtain and left the room.
Mrs. Oranmore was sitting, as she had sat all the evening, stern andupright in her chair. She lifted her keen eyes as he entered, andencountered a face so pallid and ghastly that she almost started. DoctorWiseman tottered rather than walked to a seat.
"Well?" she said, inquiringly.
"Well," he replied, hoarsely, "I have obeyed you."
"That _is_ well. But pray, Doctor Wiseman, take a glass of wine; you arepositively trembling like a whipped schoolboy. Go to the sideboard; nay,do not hesitate; _it_ is not poisoned."
Her withering sneer did more toward reviving him than any wine couldhave done. His excitement was gradually cooling down beneath those calm,steady eyes, bent so contemptuously upon him.
He drank a glass of wine, and resumed his seat before the fire, watchingsullenly the dying embers.
"Well, you have performed your task?"
"I have, madam, and earned my reward."
"Not quite, doctor; the infant is yet to be disposed of."
"Must it die, too?"
"Yes, but not here. You must remove it, in any way you please, but deathis the safest, the surest."
"And why not here?"
"Because I do not wish it," she answered, haughtily; "that is enough foryou, sirrah! You must take the child away to-night."
"What shall I do with it?"
"Dolt! blockhead! have you no brains?" she said, passionately. "Are youaware ten minutes' walk will bring you to the sea-side? Do you know thewaves refuse nothing, and tell no tales? Never hesitate, man! You havegone too far to draw back. Think of the reward; one thousand dollars forten minutes' work! Tush, doctor! I protest, you're trembling like anervous girl."
"Is it not enough to make one tremble?" retorted the doctor, roused tosomething like passion by her deriding tone; "two murders in onenight--is that _nothing_?"
"Pshaw! no--a sickly girl and a puling child more or less in the worldis no great loss. Hark!" she added, rising suddenly, as a wild, piercingshriek of more than mortal agony broke from the room where Esther lay."Did you hear that?"
Hear it! The man's face was horribly ghastly and livid, as shriek aftershriek, wild, piercing, and shrill with anguish, burst upon his ear.Great drops of perspiration stood on his brow--his teeth chattered asthough by an ague fit, and he trembled so perceptibly that he was forcedto grasp the chair for support.
Not so the woman. She stood calm, listening with perfect composure tothe agonizing cries, that were growing fainter and fainter each moment.
"It is well none of the servants are in this end of the house," shesaid, quietly; "or those loud screams would be overheard, and mightgive rise to disagreeable remarks."
Receiving no answer from her companion, she turned to him, and seeingthe look of horror on his ghastly face, her lip curled with involuntaryscorn. It was strange she could stand there so unmoved, knowing herselfto be a murderess, with the dying cries of her victim still ringing inher ears.
They ceased at last--died away in a low, despairing moan, and then allgrew still. The deep, solemn silence was more appalling than her shriekshad been, for they well knew they were stilled forever in death.
"All is over!" said Mrs. Oranmore, drawing a deep breath.
"Yes," was the answer, in a voice so hoarse and unnatural, that itseemed to issue from the jaws of death.
Again she looked at him, and again the mocking smile curled her lip.
"Doctor," she said, quietly, "you are a greater coward than I ever tookyou to be. I am going in now to see her--you had better follow me, ifyou are not _afraid_."
How sardonic was the smile which accompanied these words. Stunned,terrified as he was, it stung him, and he started after her from theroom.
They entered the chamber of the invalid. Mrs. Oranmore walked to thebed, drew back the curtains, and disclosed a frightful spectacle.
Half sitting, half lying, in a strange, distorted attitude she hadthrown herself into in her dying agony, her lips swollen and purple, hereyes protruding, her hair torn fiercely out by the roots, as she hadclutched it in her fierce anguish, was Esther.
The straining eyeballs were ghastly to look upon--the once beautifulface was now swollen and hideous, as she lay stark dead in that lonelyroom.
Moment after moment passed away, while the murderers stood silentlygazing on their victim. The deep silence of midnight was around--nothingwas heard save the occasional drifting of the snow against the windows.
A stern, grave smile hovered on the lips of Mrs. Oranmore, as she gazedon the convulsed face of the dead girl. Drawing the quilt at last overher, she turned away, saying, mockingly:
"Where now, Esther Oranmore, is the beauty of which you were so proud?This stark form and ghastly face is now all that remains of the beautyand heiress of Squire Erliston. Such shall be the fate, sooner or later,of all who dare to thwart me."
Her eyes flamed upon the shrinking man beside her, with an expressionthat made him quake. A grim smile of self-satisfied power broke over herdark face as she observed it, and her voice had a steely tone ofcommand, as she said:
"Now for the child. It must be immediately disposed of."
"And _she_?" said the doctor, pointing to the bed.
"I shall attend to that."
"If you like, madam, I will save you the trouble."
"No, sir," she replied, sharply; "though in life my enemy, her remainsshall never be given up to the dissecting-knife. I have not forgottenshe is a gentleman's daughter, and as such she shall be interred. Nowyou may go. Wrap the child in this, and--_return without her_!"
"You shall be obeyed, madam," said Doctor Wiseman, catching theinfection of her reckless spirit. He stooped and raised the infant, whowas still in a deep sleep.
Muffling it carefully in the shawl, he followed the lady from the room,and cautiously quitted the house.
The storm had now passed away; the piercing wind had died out, and themidnight moon sailed in unclouded majesty through the deep blue sky,studded with myriads of burning stars.
The cool night air restored him completely to himself.
Holding the still sleeping infant closer in his arms, he hurried on,until he stood on the sloping bank commanding a view of the bay.
The tide was rising. The waves came splashing in on the beach--the whitefoam gleaming coldly brilliant in the moonlight. Th
e waters beyondlooked cold, and sluggish, and dark--moaning in a strange, dreary way asthey swept over the rocks. How _could_ he commit the slumbering infantto those merciless waves? Depraved and guilty as he was, he hesitated.It lay so confidingly in his arms, slumbering so sweetly, that his heartsmote him. Yet it must be done.
He descended carefully to the beach, and laying his living bundle on thesnowy sands, stood like Hagar, a distance off, to see it die.
In less than ten minutes, he knew, the waves would have washed it faraway.
As he stood, with set teeth and folded arms, the merry jingle ofapproaching sleigh-bells broke upon his startled ear. They wereevidently approaching the place where he stood. Moved by a suddenimpulse of terror, he turned and fled from the spot.
Guilt is ever cowardly. He sped on, scarcely knowing whither he went,until in his blind haste he ran against a watchman.
The unexpected shock sent both rolling over in the snow, whichconsiderably cooled the fever in Doctor Wiseman's blood. The indignant"guardian of night," with an exclamation which wouldn't look well inprint, laid hold of the doctor's collar. But there was vigor in DoctorWiseman's dwarfed body, and strength in his long, lean arms; and with aviolent effort he wrenched himself free from the policeman's tenaciousgrasp, and fled.
"Charley" started in pursuit, and seeing he would soon be overtaken, thedoctor suddenly darted into the high, dark portico of animposing-looking house, and soon had the satisfaction of beholding theangry watchman tear past like a comet, in full pursuit.
Sharing Her Crime: A Novel Page 3
