Sharing Her Crime: A Novel

by May Agnes Fleming

  CHAPTER III.

  THE ASTROLOGER.

  "He fed on poisons, and they had no power, But were a kind of nutriment; he lived Through that which had been death to many men. To him the book of night was opened wide, And voices from the deep abyss revealed A marvel and a secret."--BYRON.

  Having assured himself that all danger was past, Doctor Wiseman wasabout to start from the building, when a sudden moonbeam fell on thepolished door-plate, and he started back to see the name it revealed.

  "The astrologer, Ali Hamed!" he exclaimed. "Now what foul fiend hasdriven me to his accursed den to-night? 'Tis said he can read thefuture; and surely no man ever needed to know it more than I. Can it bethat the hand of destiny has driven me here, to show me what is yet tocome. Well, it is useless going home or attempting to sleep to-night;so, Ali Hamed, I shall try what your magical black art can do for me."

  He rang the bell sharply, but moment after moment passed, and no onecame. Losing all patience, he again rang a deafening peal, which echoedand re-echoed through the house.

  Presently the sound of footsteps clattering down stairs struck his ear,and in a moment more the door was cautiously opened, and a dark, swarthyface protruded through the opening. Seeing but one, he stood aside toallow him to enter, and then securely locked and bolted the door.

  "The astrologer, Ali Hamed, resides here?" said the doctor.

  Accustomed to visitors at all hours of the day and night, the manbetrayed no surprise at the unreasonable time he had taken to inquire,but answered quietly in the affirmative.

  "Can I see him?"

  "I think so; step in here one moment, and I will see."

  He ushered Dr. Wiseman into a small and plainly furnished parlor, whilehe again went up stairs. In a few moments he reappeared, and, biddinghis visitor follow him, led the way up the long staircase through aspacious suite of apartments, and finally into a long, dark room, wherethe astrologer usually received visitors.

  The doctor glanced around with intense curiosity, not unmingled withawe. The floor was painted black, and the walls were hung with darktapestry, covered with all manner of cabalistic figures. Skulls,crucibles, magic mirrors, tame serpents, vipers, and all manner ofhideous things were scattered profusely around.

  While the doctor still stood contemplating the strange things aroundhim, the door opened and the astrologer himself entered. He was animposing-looking personage, tall and majestic, with grave, Asiaticfeatures, and arrayed with Eastern magnificence. He bent his head withgrave dignity in return to the doctor's profound bow, and stood for afew moments silently regarding him.

  "You would know the future?" said the astrologer, at length, in hisslow, impressive voice.

  "Such is my business here to-night."

  "You would have your horoscope cast, probably?"

  "Yes."

  "Then give me the day and hour of your birth, and return to-morrowmorning."

  "No, I cannot wait until then; I must know all to-night."

  The astrologer bowed, and after many tedious preliminaries, directed thedoctor to quit the room until he should send for him. Dr. Wiseman thenentered one of the long suite of apartments through which he had passed,and seated himself in a state of feverish anxiety to hear the result.Some time elapsed ere the swarthy individual who had admitted himpresented himself at the door and announced that the astrologer wasready to receive him.

  Dr. Wiseman found Ali Hamed standing beside a smoking caldron, with hiscross-bones, and lizards, and mystic figures around him, awaiting hisentrance.

  Not much given to credulity, the doctor determined to test his skillbefore placing implicit belief in his predictions; and therefore,bluntly announcing his skepticism, he demanded to know something of thepast.

  "You are a widower, with one child," said the astrologer, calmly.

  The doctor bowed assent.

  "You are not rich, but avaricious; there is nothing you would not do formoney. You are liked by none; by nature you are treacherous, cunning,and unscrupulous; your hands are dyed, and your heart is black withcrime; you----"

  "Enough!" interrupted the doctor, turning as pale as his saffron visagewould permit; "no more of the past. What has the future in store forme?"

  "A life of disgrace, and death _on the scaffold_!"

  A suppressed cry of horror burst from the white lips of the doctor, whoreeled as if struck by some sudden blow.

  "To-night," continued the astrologer, unheeding the interruption, "_achild has been born whose destiny shall be united with yours throughlife; some strange, mystic tie will bind you together for a time. Butthe hand of this child will yet bring your head to the halter._"

  He paused. Dr. Wiseman stood stiff, rooted to the ground with horror.

  "Such is your future; you may go," said the Egyptian, waving his hand.

  With his blood freezing in his veins, with hands trembling and lipspalsied with horror, he quitted the house. An hour had scarcely passedsince his entrance; but that hour seemed to have added ten years to hisage. He felt not the cold, keen air as he slowly moved along, everysense paralyzed by the appalling prediction he had just heard.

  "Die on the scaffold!" His crime deserved it. But the bare thought madehis blood run cold. And through a child born that night he was toperish! Was it the child of Esther Oranmore? Oh, absurd! it had beenswept far away by the waves long ere this. Whose, then, could it be?There were more children born this Christmas Eve than that one; but howcould any one ever know what he had done? No one knew of it but Mrs.Oranmore; and he well knew she would never tell.

  He plunged blindly onward through the heaps of drifted snow, heedingnot, caring not, whither his steps wended. Once or twice he met awatchman going his rounds, and he shrank away like the guilty thing thathe was, dreading lest the word "_murder_" should be stamped on his brow.He thought with cowardly terror of the coming day, when every eye, hefancied, would turn upon him with a look of suspicion.

  Involuntarily he wandered to the sea-shore, and stood on the bank wherehe had been one hour before. The waves were dashing now almost to hisfeet; no trace of any living thing was to be seen around.

  "It _has_ perished, then!" he exclaimed, with a feeling of intenserelief. "I knew it! I knew it! _It_, then, is not the child which is tocause my death. But, pshaw! why do I credit all that _soi-disant_prophet told me! Yet he spoke so truly of the past, I cannot avoidbelieving him. Perish on the scaffold! Heavens! if I felt sure of it, Iwould go mad. Ha! what is that? Can it be the ghastly white face of achild?"

  He leaned over and bent down to see, but nothing met his eye save thewhite caps of the waves.

  "Fool that I am!" he exclaimed, turning away impatiently. "Well mightstony Madam Oranmore deem me a coward did she see me now. I will hastenback to her, and report the success of my mission."

  He turned away, and strode in the direction of her house as fast as hecould walk over the frozen ground, quite unconscious of what was at thatsame moment passing in another quarter of the city on that same eventfulnight.